


melted away like i was free

by idkmandestiel



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety Disorder, Clint Barton & Steve Rogers Friendship, Depression, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Drinking, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Build, Tony is a little shit, and so is Sam, clint is hearing impaired bc tHATS HOW ITS SUPPOSED TO BE, nat and steve are bff goals, sam and Clint and Nat served together, steve and bucky are super in love, steve picks fights, this is all fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7063951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmandestiel/pseuds/idkmandestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>steve can't help but pick fights to help the little guy, despite clint's adamant protests (although nat secretly cheers for him on the symbolic sidelines). the three of them are inseparable and weird, not unbeknownst to them. </p><p>bucky immserses himself in his schoolwork and forgets about the outside world, even when sam forces him to go out. the two of them have a friendship like no other. </p><p>they meet- well, sorta. you'll see. </p><p>it's a classic love story after all, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "fight me" steve

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a line from a Marina and the Diamonds song called "Happy," which goes: "it felt so sweet, it felt so strong. it made me feel like I belonged. and all the sadness inside me, melted away like I was free." hINT HINT THIS IS GONNA BE A FLUFFY FIC SO ENJOY

He didn't mean to end up face down on the floor in the alleyway. He really didn't. But, Steve is a little shit, and he ends up face down on the dirty ass floor of the alley way behind the bar, with a bleeding nose, split lip and maybe a broken bone or two, but most definitely a shit ton of bruises. 

It wasn't Steve's fault entirely, yet he couldn't must the courage to mentally admit he had some responsibility. I mean, his intentions were good...ish. And he didn't wanna be a bystander, obviously. So he did what he had to do, and he threatened to punch the guy if he said another word to the girl sitting at the bar alone. 

Nevertheless, he had that aching in this body- not the physical one (although now that we've mentioned that, ow!) but rather, the mental ache to just fucking fight someone. See, that's where the "ish" part comes in, the part which Nat calls "Fight Me" Steve ("It's not even catchy!" Steve exclaimed the first time she called him that, but she flicked his forehead and he slumped back into the couch and continued watching the movie), the part of Steve that just needed to fight someone, good cause or no cause at all, Steve was ready. 

It also didn't help that Steve was "fucking ripped, like Godly-looking and shiny and shit," as Clint said, the first time he had walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist- needless to say, they were great roommates. Clint even says he would go gay for him, "and Brad Pitt because that man is honestly a motherfucking work of art, like can you even believe it!" (this was before Derek, but more about that later). So, simply put, Steve was quite large (not in that way, you perv! But yeah also in that way), and most people perceived him as a threat. 

"Fight Me" Steve was born while he was living with his aunt Clara in Brooklyn, after a few years of moving there when his mom died. Now, as the story goes, please keep in mind, Steve was, at that age, what he would like to call "a skinny little motherfucker." The kid barely had any meat on his body, he was pale, small and weak- lots of illnesses held him back as a kid, but that's beside the point. One day, walking home from school, little Steve Rogers saw Billy Thompson, a bigger boy in 5th grade, picking on Lucy Oliver, a girl in Steve's class. Steve, promptly forgetting about his size (or lack thereof) had decided to walk up to Billy and punch him square in the face. 

Steve went home to Clara, sat at the dinner table eating spaghetti, and when his aunt Clara asked him where he got the bruise on his face and bump on his head, Steve slurped up a noodle, smiled and said: "Lucy needed help, so I helped her." 

Clara decided on that day that her nephew really reminded her of her long gone brother-in-law, and that night, she cried in her bedroom about Steve's future, praying he wouldn't be hurt forever and hoping that God, one day, would give Steve Rogers the right life to help people. 

Flash forward to Steve in the alley way, throwing punches at a guy much bigger than him (and that says a lot, since most guys aren't bigger than Steve), and the guy pushed him against the wall, causing Steve to collapse on the ground, clutching his head. 

"Don't fucking mess with me again, faggot," the man above him said, and kicked Steve in the face one more time before stomping away, in the opposite direction of the bar. Steve was on the floor for what felt like hours, when he heard-

"Steve!"

Clint Barton was jogging towards him, and Steve lifted his head from the ground slightly to see Clint's face, which didn't look happy. 

"What the fuck man, I leave you alone for legitimately ten fucking minutes, and I find you like this," Clint had reached where Steve was and crouched down. 

"'M fine, Clinty," Steve lifted himself up and say against the wall. "Some asshole was threatening this girl at the bar, I had to do something."

Clint had a firm grasp on Steve's shoulder, "So you took him out into the alley and let him beat the living shit out of you?" he asked rhetorically. "Logic."

"Someone had to-" he winced, his chest was killing him. "Someone... someone had to stop him."

"Stop trying to be a fucking hero, the world doesn't need saving, Steve," Clint shook his head. "C'mon, let's go home," he said, and he helped Steve up from the ground and started leading him out the alley way. 

"Clint, I'm not trying to be a hero-"

"You just wanted to fight someone, yeah yeah," Clint rolled his eyes. "I know the whole deal, Steve." Steve was limping, walking slowly as Clint lead him to the car. 

"It's not that, it's-"

"Rogers, I may be dumb sometimes and I do stupid shit," he paused, "But I am not dumb enough to pick on someone larger than me."

"But-"

"Pick on someone your own size, Steve."

"She wasn't sticking up for herself, I had to do something," Steve insisted, as they reached the car. 

"I'm never leaving you alone in a bar again," Clint rolls his eyes, and opens the door to help Steve in, who had flipped Clint the bird in response to his statement. Clint walks around the the driver's seat, opens the door and slides in. 

"I'm taking you to the ER, Steve."

"No."

"Too fucking bad."

Steve didn't have the energy to say anything else, so he didn't bother protesting as Clint pulled out of the driveway. 

"Damn Saturday night, and you ruin it by fighting the first thing in sight," Clint mutters, looking into the mirrors of the car. "Should've known."

***

The night in the emergency room wasn't particularly eventful. Steve walked in clutching onto Clint, and the nurse gave him a once over and rushed him to the first room she could find. When a particularly nosy nurse asked "who the fuck would even mess with a guy who looks like him," Clint rolled his eyes and muttered "good question, I've been asking myself that for three years now." 

On the drive home to their apartment, which was a block away from the college campus, Steve (literally high on pain meds) was clutching onto his chest, which had two broken ribs (not to mention the concussion, and the nearly broken finger and nose). He was quietly sitting in the passenger seat, looking at Clint intently. 

"Clinty?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever think... do y'ever think that maybe we aren't alone in this Universe?"

"Go to sleep Steve."

"No, but really."

"Steve?"

"Yes, Clinty?"

"Shut the ever-loving fuck up."

"Okay."

A few minutes pass, and Clint was finally comfortable in the silence, content with the hum of the engine and the road under the wheels of the car. He sipped his terrible hospital coffee, when-

"Clint, do you think anyone will ever love me?"

Clint practically spit the coffee out of his mouth. 

"I feel like..." Steve started to talk, looking up to the car ceiling. "I feel like I'm so nice and cute, and no one loves me."

"Steve."

"Yes, Clinty?"

The car was now pulling into the driveway of their apartment, and after parking it, Clint turned to Steve and looked him in the eyes. 

"Don't ever change, man," Clint says fondly, and puts his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Not for anyone, or anything."

"Clint?"

"Yeah, Steve?"

"You're nice."

"Alright let's go, you're going into bed, Captain," Clint rolls his eyes for what felt like the millionth time tonight. He opens his door and runs over to the other side, and helps Steve to the front door of their home. 

"I'm a Captain, Clint?" Steve had a faraway look in his eyes. "That's so cool, dude, does that mean I can fly?"

Clint stuck the key into the lock and pushed the door open. "Man, what does one have to do with the other?" and Steve opened his mouth to answer, and Clint says "Never mind, don't answer that," and ruffles his best friend's hair. 

Getting Steve into bed was easy, but getting Steve to let Clint go was... not so easy. 

"Cliiiiintttttt."

"No."

"Come sleep in my bed, we can cuddle," Steve insists. 

"Steve, that's weird as fuck," Clint says, but then recalls the time when he and Steve got wasted and ended up cuddling on Nat's couch (there is photographic evidence, as well). 

"But I wanna cuddle," Steve whines. 

"No, not again. This is not happening," Clint retorts. 

"Fuck you," Steve says with a sleepy smile on his face. 

"You wish," and Clint ruffles his best friend's hair, and walks to the door and shuts the light. "Good night, Captain."

"Nighty night, Clinty," a sleepy voice quietly replies. 

That night, Clint pulls out a bottle of scotch and drinks for his friend, Steve Rogers, who was too good for this damn world.


	2. bird jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story shifts to Bucky and Sam, who started living together when Sam was a sophomore and Bucky a freshman, in dire need for a roommate. Two years later, these bitches still don't stop bitching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments, kudos and bookmark it, so you can know when I post :)))

James Buchanan Barnes, known to most of the world as Bucky (yes, it rhymes with fucky, and he doesn't give a shit, dammit!) loved Sunday mornings. Loved them. Loved them more than banana pancakes. Loved them more than puppies. Freaking puppies, man. 

He and his roommate, Sam Wilson, were always busy with school shit, and Sunday was the one day where they were both home, and they could both sit at the table in peace, and eat breakfast. 

This Sunday was no different. 

"Dude, pass the damn butter already, I've said it four fucking times, man."

Sam poked his right arm repeatedly until Bucky snapped back into reality. 

"You were daydreaming about puppies again, weren't you?"

"...Maybe."

"Pass the fucking butter."

"Magic word, please," Bucky batted his eyelashes at Sam, who rolled his eyes. 

"Magic word, my ass."

"Then, not butter for you, bird boy," Bucky teased. 

"Hey! My birdwatching club is fucking awesome, okay?" Sam whined. "Now, can you please pass the butter?"

"Only if you tell me what they call you at your birdwatching club," Bucky insisted, smirking slyly. 

"Fuck you, man, I already said please," Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Okaaaaay, I guess I'll keep this butter all to myself, then-"

"You're an asshole," Sam retorts. "And they call me Falcon. Now pass me the motherfucking butter," he insists, and Bucky cackles and tosses the butter to Sam. 

"You could've gotten up and got it yourself, lazy ass," Bucky teases. 

"My foot fell asleep," Sam says as he spreads butter on his bagel. 

"You could've flown here, Falcon."

"Shut up."

Sam and Bucky sat in a comfortable silence, eating their respective meals and busying themselves with their thoughts. 

"Hey, forgot to tell you," Sam quips. 

"What?"

"Not gonna be here tonight, going to hang out with Nat and Clint," Sam answers. 

"Ah, a snipers reunion, how nice," Bucky says. 

"Don't be so bitter," Sam kicks him under the table. 

"It's not my fault Natasha doesn't like me, I am a wonderful person with a great personality," Bucky insists. 

"You met them one time, a year and a half ago, man," Sam says. "They're actually great people, they helped me- well, we helped each other when we were in Afghanistan. Not to mention they're hilarious as fuck."

"It's cool, man. Have fun with them, I have some robotics shit to do, anyways, so I'm busy," Bucky replies. 

"You should come along, I'm sure they won't mind. We're just going to the diner and then back to Nat's place for drinks, and-"

"Dude, no way I'm crashing your trio-date, not again."

"Actually, they may have invited you..."

"Ha."

"No man, I'm serious. They asked about you, said you were invited if you wanted to come."

"Well, I don't wanna."

"You're so annoying."

"Eat your damn bagel, bird boy," Bucky retorts, and bird boy flips him the bird, as most bird boys do. 

***

Clint, Natasha and Sam met up at the local diner around 7 that Sunday night. They sat in the booth and laughed their asses off, reminiscing about the good old days.

"Man, Riley really was great at dancing," Sam says, and Clint snorts again. "I miss him, you know?" Clint and Nat nod their heads, and Nat puts her hand on top of his. 

"Anyways," Sam continues. "We should do this more often, guys."

"Dude it's so fucking weird, like we know each other for years now, we go our separate ways after serving and yet we find ourselves at the same college at the same time," Clint remarks. 

"Barton, you just followed my ass around," Nat dead pans, and Sam laughs. "Anywhere I went, you followed. Like a lost little puppy," she coos, and pitches his cheeks, only to have him swat away her hands. 

"But even so, the fact that Sam is here is like, like..."

"Magical, Barton? The work of the gods?" Sam jokes. 

"Is it divine intervention, Clint?" Nat cackles, and pokes his stomach. 

"I hate you both."

"Aw, Clint, but we love you!" Nat teases. "I do get what you're saying though, but Sam and I actually kept in touch."

"What."

"Yeah man, I told Nat I wanted to go to college and she said where she was going and I decided, 'well, fuck it, I got nothing better to do,'" Sam admits. He pushes his empty plate in front of him, into the center of the table, and leans back into the seat. 

"YOU GUYS KEPT IN TOUCH AND DIDN'T TELL ME," Clint whines loudly. "Man, I thought it was like motherfucking fate!"

"Nah, man, we talked. I don't know why Nat didn't tell you," and Nat smiles devilishly. "Still, we all got busy, even though you two managed to keep in touch without me being involved."

"It's not my fault he follows me everywhere," Nat mutters, but smiles fondly at Clint, who flipped her the bird. 

***

When Sam got home that night, he walked into the kitchen and found Bucky passed out at the table, with a shit ton of papers under his arms. He must've been studying when he fell asleep. 

Idiot keeps working himself too hard, Sam though. 

He nudges Bucky's arm, and Bucky wakes up startled. 

"I'm up, I'm up I have the homework!"

"Dude what the fuck."

"Oh," Bucky looks up. "I fell asleep? What time is it?" he asks. 

Sam looks down at his watch, "1 in the morning, dumb ass. Go to bed."

"I have work to do," Bucky yawns. 

"Do it tomorrow night, Buck."

"No-"

"Actually, you have plans tomorrow night."

Bucky looks up from the table of papers scattered. "I do?"

"Well, we do."

"Um."

"Me, you, Nat, Clint and his roommate."

"I didn't agree to this, Sammy," Bucky complains. "I have too much work to do."

"Bucky, Nat and Clint asked about you, they wanna see you," Sam insists, and Bucky gives him a look. "Okay fine, Clint wants to see you, Nat is utterly indifferent."

"Dude..."

"Come on, one night!" Sam begs. "And if you really don't like it, then I won't make you do it again," he promises. 

"I hate you."

"Thank youuuuuu," Sam sing-songs, and walks off to his room. 

"Fuck off, bird boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update whenever I can! This fic is gonna be longer than short, but shorter than long. that is, it's gonna be slow build af but awesome too. Clint, Nat and Sam are gonna do a lot of intervening for their friends. Also, for reference:  
> -Sam is majoring in economics and wants to be an economic professor  
> -Nat is attending college just to do shit and wants to actually work for the CIA.  
> -Clint is studying Architecture. He lost his hearing in an explosion a few weeks into a mission in Afghanistan. Nat was there when we found out he would never hear normally again.  
> -Steve is studying Art, History and Art History. He wants to be a historian, but his true passion is painting.  
> -Bucky is planning to be an engineer, studying mechanics, robotics and all that cool shit. He loves physics, and works his ass off. He lost his arm when he was young and got really sick from cancer. A few years later, he was in remission and has been since.  
> -Bucky and Sam live on campus, Nat lives with Pepper Potts on campus and Steve and Clint live a few blocks away from campus in their own apartment.


	3. modern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi! leave comments, kudos and bookmark it, it really really means a lot. I would really love some feedback, and anything helps. thanks loves ❤️

Steve Rogers was having a bad day. 

If you asked him, bad was an understatement. It was the "fucking worst day of my life like what the fuck am I even doing I hate this I hate my life." Yeah, that kind of day. 

It all started when Steve woke up in the middle of the afternoon. He rushed to the bathroom and threw up a storm (and last nights dinner), and proceeded to cry from the excruciating pain of moving considering he had some broken bones. 

Then, he sulked back into his bed and complained to Clint that his life sucked and he hated everyone and fuck the world and Clint. 

He continued this complaining and rotating between watching television and drawing, for three hours, before Clint finally had it. Steve was complaining about his head when-

"You motherfucker."

"Cliiiiint it hurts s-"

"Don't be a bitch, you did this to yourself, Rogers," Clint said sternly. 

"Yeah but it- but it hurrrrtsssss," Steve whined. 

"I'm literally gonna shoot you."

"Do it, save me from this misery that is life," Steve lamented, throwing his head back onto the pillow. 

"You're being a bitch, I'm leaving," Clint started to get up. 

"No no no, I'm sorry I'll stop complaining okay Clinty," Steve rushed. "I love you please don't leave me I love your big muscles," Steve continued. 

Clint sniggered. "Normally, this flattery would get to me," Clint sat back down. "But unfortunately, I do hafta go, Captain."

"Whyyyyyyyy?" Steve complained. 

"I'm meeting up with Nat and Sam at the diner, we planned it from lastweek," Clint said softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't exactly plan on my best friend getting his ass kicked, but I have to go, man."

"It's okay, you can go, I have my Netflix," Steve smiled. "Gon' watch more Sherlock."

"Okay, I'll be back later tonight, I left some money on the counter inside, so you can order some pizza," Clint says and gets up. "Call me if you need anything, Stevie."

"Yeah, yeah, love you mom," Steve sniggered, and Clint made a face and went into his room and changed. After a minute or so, he heard the door to their apartment close, and the lock being put to use. 

Steve was alone in the apartment. 

For the next four hours, Steve fell in and out of consciousness, as Sherlock played in the background. His entire body was aching and he was on so many pain meds. He felt weak, and tired. It kind of felt like when he had mono, but like way, way worse. 

When Clint came home, it was around 1 o'clock in the morning and Steve was sitting in bed with the blanket completely wrapped around him, so that the only thing you could see was his face, poking through the hole formed by the blanket. He sat on his bed, glumly watching Sherlock. 

"Have you even moved at all since I left?" Clint asks doubtfully. 

"Yeah," Steve answers. "I moved from one side of my bed to the other side of my bed, can't you tell that-"

"Steve-"

"No, I have not moved, mom," Steve says sarcastically. 

"Steve, you gotta take care of yourself man, it's not healthy that you're like this-"

"Whatever, I'm going to bed," Steve blows him off. "Good night."

"Wait, I gotta tell you something," Clint presses on. "You're not gonna like it, but please do it for me."

"What is it Clint?"

"No, but like you're really really not gonna like it so don't yell at me, just trust me," Clint continues ranting on. "It'll be worth it so please just-"

"Clint can you just fucking spit it out already?"

"IkindofmighthavemadeusplanstomorrownightwithNatandSamandSam'sroomatepleasedontbemadatme?"

"No."

"OH COME ON, STEVE," Clint groans. 

"No, I'm not going," Steve insisted. 

"It's just hanging out at Nat's place, it'll be fun, pleeeeeeaasse?" Clint whines. 

"Why do you want me there anyway?" Steve crosses his arms. 

"Because Sam asked about you, said he and his roommate were friends and I don't know, we figured we might as well hang out more often," Clint reasons. 

"And Sam actually invited me?"

"Yes."

"Clint."

"Okay so he said you could come if you want so technically that's an invite, but legit you're coming," Clint says firmly. 

"I'll see how I feel, Clint. And besides, I have a shit ton of work to do because I wasted today away," Steve gives in. 

"That's your fault, bitch," Clint teases, and walks toward the doorway. "Go to sleep, Captain, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, asshole."

"Rude."

"Fuck off."

"Even more rude."

"Please go away."

"That's better."

***

Steve sat glumly in the back of the lecture hall, as his professor droned on and on about the definition of modern and its relationship with art and its history. 

"The real question is- what does postmodern mean? When I look at something, say- a sculpture, or any piece of art, and I classify it as postmodern," Professor Hale pauses, "what are the characteristics that cause me to say this- better yet, why do I call it postmodern art?"

Steve looked around the hall. It wasn't any more than 30 students, all scattered across the room and slumped in their seats as well- after all, it was a Monday morning. 

"What separates modern art," she points to a picture of Pierre Bonnard's 'After The Theater,' "from postmodern art?" Hale then points to a picture of Chuck Close's work titled 'Georgia.'

Steve looked up, and looked back down uninterested. 

"I'm gonna speak quite generally here, folks, so forget about Chuck Close and Pierre Bonnard and the 1970s for a moment," Hale continued. "Modern art, by definition, is related to the idea that the work corresponds with its own era and time. What constitutes modern nowadays, is completely different from what was modern, say, fifty years ago."

Steve looks up. 

"So why is it important to learn art history?" 

No one answered. 

"Come on, you're all going to be art history majors within the next few years, guys," Hale persists. "Fine, I guess I'll tell you.

"The fluidity of time is very often modeled in the timeline of art history. The definition of modern itself is defined by the time itself. When we look back at prehistoric art, we see a world completely different from our own, yet at that time in history, it was the most modern you can get. That stuff? It's old, it's crusty and it isn't that pretty or as cool as the art we see today, yet we have this connection- this, humanity and emotion. Anyone from any time in the past, present and future, can relate to having their heart broken, no? You see, I believe that art history is history itself. Wars, treaties, laws... they don't define the humanity that we call our past. Art? Music? Writing? Poetry? They connect us to our past, they humanize our past, they make our timeline our own- they define who we are.

"But, modern- the word modern is special, folks. We learn that no matter what our past is, we can change it. Because what was not accepted then, could be accepted now- just by the definition of the word. So if I want you to take anything from these last few years of art history, I want you to understand this- your past defines who you are, but your present defines who you will be. Don't be afraid to defy the past definitions. Hell, how do you think artists did it? They looked back, admitted their pasts, and then painted their own future."

Steve had his head cocked, looking directly at Professor Hale. 

"So yeah, the nitty gritty stuff? You'll have to know it. You're going to have to know who Picasso is, down to what kind of stone did they use in what period. But most importantly, you have to know how art history defines who we are, and how you can define who you will be." Hale pauses, "your midterm paper is due in two weeks, come to me with any questions. Class dismissed."

Steve got up, grabbed his laptop and his bag, and proceeded to walk out the door 

"Mr. Rogers?"

Steve turned to see Professor Hale staring at him intently, and walked toward her. 

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry to be nosy, but are you alright?" she asks, noting his bruises and black eye and split lip. "I couldn't help but notice."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm completely fine. Just got into a fight with some guy who was bothering a young lady," Steve answers. 

"Oh, I see. Well, let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Professor Hale."

"And Steve?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I said today in class, alright. Paint your own future, as cheesy as it sounds. Don't let your past stop you," Professor Hale smiles, and grabs her notes and leaves the lecture hall. 

Steve turns around and walks out the door, confused and tired, and in a shit ton of pain. Professor Hale's words meant nothing to him now, but soon enough, he will be grateful for that Monday morning Contemporary Art Class.


	4. nat has an idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the one where sam, nat, clint and bucky become the cewl crew, steve is an idiot who sleeps in, and pepper and tony are... you know.

When Steve got home that afternoon, he literally collapsed on his bed and slept until the sun came up the next day. He only remembers vaguely, but surely, that Clint had walked in sometime that night and shook him awake. 

"Stevie, wake up."

"Nhgggf."

"Same though."

"Nnnngo away," Steve moaned. 

"Come on, we have plans with Nat and Sam and his roommate, and I want you to come," Clint pressed on. 

"Fuck off."

"Steeeeve, please come. I know you're tired but you should come out with me, get a change of scenery," Clint insisted. 

"And you should fuck off," Steve flipped his head to the other side of the pillow so that he was facing the wall, and not Clint. 

"You're an asshole, Nat's gonna be mad at you, and I won't be there to help you when the claws come out," Clint walks out the room and slams the door behind him. He grabs his keys, his phone and wallet, and leaves the apartment and starts walking toward the car. He grabs his phone out and dials Nat's number. 

"Hey, asshole," Nat teased on the other line. 

"Hey, I couldn't get Cap up, so it's just gonna be me coming to you," Clint says and rolls his eyes at the though of Steve sprawled on his bed, drooling. 

"Did you even fucking try, Barton?"

"Yeah, I did, so don't be mad at me," Clint opens the car door and slides into the drivers seat. "I'll be there in a few, bye bitch."

"Fuck you, asshole."

"Love you babe," Clint teases. 

"You wish I was your babe," Nat retorts. 

"Hell yeah, I do," Clint says back, and hangs up the phone. He starts the car and heads over to Nat's apartment in the dorms area, praying that Pepper won't be there. 

Obviously, she was there, but that doesn't happen until later, so have patience, reader. 

Clint walks up the stairs of Nat's dorm building, and lets himself into her dorm. The dorm was bigger than your average college dorm, mostly since Pepper's father was the president of the college, and Nat was smart enough to befriend her when she decided to live on campus. 

The dorm, when one walks in, has a small kitchen, fixed with a stove and a mini fridge and the college necessity, a microwave- also known as the reason Nat basically survives. Following the kitchen was a small living room, which has a fluffy sofa, adorned with like a bajillion pillows and blankets. There was the coffee table, and then another smaller couch, similarly adorned to it's bigger companion. The bathroom was on the other side of the room, and right near where the television is, was the door to Nat's room, which was next to Pepper's room. 

All in all, it was the first place that Bucky, Nat, Sam and Clint ever really all got along. 

The night started off slow, when Sam and Bucky walked in through the door, the latter bearing a box of pizza, and a look of utter discomfort. They had arrived a few minutes after Clint, who had comfortably situated himself on the larger couch, with his feet resting on the coffee table, and a beer in his hand. 

"Hey Sam!" he called from inside, Sam and Bucky followed Nat through the hallway, past the kitchen and into the living room, with Nat rolling her eyes at the sight of Clint sitting lazily. 

"Hey Barton, nice of you to get up and say hello to the guest," Nat retorts, and he flips the bird at her, making Sam laugh. 

"I know what will get his lazy ass up," Sam says. "Clint, we have pizza."

Clint was, needless to say, a sucker for pizza. He rushed to where Sam was, and Nat grabbed the box from Bucky and lightly tossed it on the table. "Sit down, guys. Bucky, would you like a beer?"

Clint almost forgot about Bucky. 

"Bucky! Great to see you man!" Clint exclaimed with his mouth stuffed with pizza. 

"Um, yeah I could go for a beer, thanks Natasha," Bucky says awkwardly. 

"Natasha is what my grandma used to call me, and she's dead, so please," Nat walks into the kitchen and calls. "Please call me Nat."

"Fair enough, Nat," Bucky gives a small smile. He was shocked at her kindness considering the last time (long story, involving too much booze and a lot of Chinese take-out). He and Sam sat down at the table, and each respectively grabbed their own slices. 

"Hey, Clint, where's that roommate of yours?" Sam asks through a mouthful of pizza. 

"You two need to learn some fucking table manners," Nat grimaces at the sight of Clint opening his pizza-filled mouth to answer. She walks back in from the kitchen and hands Bucky and Sam both a beer. 

"Aw, honey, you love it when I talk dirty," Clint says, and sticks his tongue out, yet again covered in chewed up pizza. 

"You're fucking gross, Barton," Nat says, and grabs a slice and sits next to Bucky. "See Bucky over here, chews his food nicely, with his mouth closed, along with his tongue and food in it. Learn from Bucky."

Bucky looks at Nat, then looks back at Clint and Sam, and looks at Nat again. He pauses, thinking for a moment, and then sticks his tongue out, which was, of course, accompanied with chewed up pizza. Clint and Sam cheer and high five, and Bucky smiles sheepishly. 

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Buck-O," Clint claps his hand on Bucky's shoulder and smiles. 

"You're all gross," Nat says, and takes another bite of her slice. 

"NATASHA, WHY ARE THERE A GROUP OF AGGRESSIVELY-TONED AND ATTRACTIVE MEN IN OUR APARTMENT?" 

Clint grimaces, and rolls his eyes at the sound of Pepper's shrill voice. 

Pepper stood at the doorframe of her room, looking intently at the group sitting at the table eating pizza. 

"Pep, this is Sam and Bucky, they go to school here," Nat replies calmly. "Want a slice?"

Pepper walks over to the table. "Is it gluten free?" she asks, knowing well what the answer would be. 

"No," Nat replies. 

"Then, no thank you, Natasha," Pepper smiles politely. She looks over at Sam and and Bucky, and smiles. "I am Pepper Potts, pleasure to meet you."

Bucky looks at her curiously, "your father is-"

"Yes, my father is Jackson Potts, president of the school," Pepper interrupts, and Bucky jumps a little at the shrillness of her voice. "Well, I must be on my way, I have a date."

"A date?" Clint says suspiciously, pausing to finish chewing his pizza. "Who would go on a date- better yet, who would willingly be seen with you?" 

"Oh, Clint, I know your sarcastic humor and dry comments are only a ploy to disguise your pent-up, everlasting love for me," Pepper says sweetly, and pats his hand. "You'll find love one day, Clint Barton."

"Um, okay."

"But, if you truly are curious, I am going on a date with Tony Stark."

Sam spits out his beer. "Stark?!"

"Yes?" Pepper replies, utterly confused. 

Sam starts hysterical laughing. "Stark? You're serious? Tony 'I would never touch a girl with a ten foot pole' Stark?" he laughs again, and Bucky and the rest of them look him curiously. "Man, I call bullshit on that!"

"I regret to inform you that I am, in fact, going on a date with Tony," Pepper responds, and Nat rolls her eyes. 

"Pepper, just go before one of these idiots end up choking on something," she says, and Bucky laughs. 

"Alright, you have a fun night," Pepper says suspiciously, and walks away from the table and to the front door. "Don't stay up too late, Natasha, we have Poli-Sci tomorrow morning at 8:30!" she calls from the front door, and closes it behind her. 

A few moments pass. 

"Is she always like that?" Bucky asks. 

"Yep, and this is a quiet day, believe it or not," Nat responds quietly, and smiles at Bucky. 

"Dude, who the hell willingly goes out with Tony fucking Stark?" asks Sam, utterly confused. 

"Pepper Potts, that's who," Clint responds 

"I'll drink to that," Nat says dryly, and lifts her beer up. Bucky reaches over and taps his bottle with hers as a silent cheers, making Nat smile. 

"I like you, Bucky," she says, as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"Hey, no, he's mine!" Sam jumps up from across the table and races over to Bucky and wraps his arms around him. "You keeps your dirty paws off of him, Romanoff!"

Clint laughs as Nat flips Sam the middle finger, and Bucky tries to tear Sam's arms off of him. "Dude, get the hell off of me!"

"Never, my love, I'm never letting go!" Sam cries dramatically. 

"Awwww, move over Jack and Rose," Clint yells. "There's a new disgustingly romantic couple in town, all muscles and manliness!"

Nat sniggers, and Bucky rolls his eyes. "Sam, get off me, you weirdo, or I'm telling them about the time you met that girl at the bar and went home with her, and then decided to-"

"NO," Sam cries horrifically, and let's go and runs over back to his seat. 

"Ugh, now I'm curious," Clint says, in an exaggerated whine. "Bucky, tell us!"

"NO BUCKY!" Sam cries and chucks his bottle cap at Bucky, who was smiling slyly. Nat was sitting back in her seat and enjoying her slice. 

"Tell us, tell us, tell us!" Clint chants, and Bucky opens his mouth. 

"James Buchanan Barnes, if you say another word I will beat your ass up," Sam threatens. 

Clint pauses, looks at Sam for a moment, and then continues to chant. Bucky started laughing and Nat continued chewing, and the rest of the night basically went on like that. 

Nat kept on looking over at Bucky, who she couldn't help but think would really like Steve. 

She had an idea. 

***

"Would you just tell us already?" Clint pressed on to Bucky, who was sitting next to Nat on the big couch, animatedly talking to her about the classes that he was taking this semester. 

Nat had decided to learn more about Bucky, who was taking a whole bunch of science classes, but as a promise to his mother had signed up for an art history course as compensation for all the nerdy science and technology. When Nat heard art history, her idea now became a full-fledged plan. 

Bucky paused from talking to Nat, and looked over at Clint, who was currently in a headlock, curtesy of Sam Wilson. "Ugh, fine. He thought it would be sexy if he-"

"Bucky Barnes, I'm literally never gonna talk to you-"

"If he completely stripped, and laid out on the couch with a can of whipped cream and Frank Sinatra playing in the background-"

"WHAT," Clint wheezed, and laughed hysterically. 

"Bucky!" Sam exclaimed. 

"Needless to say, she was quite terrified and didn't find it a little endearing," Bucky sniggered. "She ended up screaming and kicked him out on the street without his clothes." Even Nat was laughing at that point. "He called me, and I had to pick him up from the apartment-"

"I hate you so much," Sam had let go of Clint and sat on the couch, his head in a pillow. 

"He was hiding behind a bush, which unfortunately contained poison ivy," Bucky continued, and Clint had tears in his eyes. "It was an interesting night, nevertheless," Bucky laughed. 

"I hate you so fucking much, you asshole," Sam whined. 

"I discovered that night, after rubbing Sam down with anti-itch cream, that he is highly ticklish behind his neck-"

"I knew that already," Nat commented, laughing. 

"And he has a birthmark shaped like Texas on his ass-"

"I knew that already," Clint said dryly, and Sam whacked him with a pillow as Clint, Nat and Bucky laughed. "Afghanistan lead to many interesting nights, I'll just leave it at that."

"I hate you all," Sam lamented. 

Nat sniggered, "Clint, you're not any better. You hooked up with a drag queen when we went downtown on our trip to New York City."

Bucky and Sam laughed. "I have no reason to be embarrassed, Natasha, it turns out I am quite comfortable with the male anatomy," he says, and sips his beer. "Derek and I had a great night," he continued, as-a-matter-of-factly. 

Bucky laughs again. "You're quite comfortable with your sexuality then?"

"Unlike Natasha over here, yes I am. She hooked up with some hot chick in Vegas when we went last year, and she had a midlife crisis."

"Hey!"

Sam and Bucky were laughing as Nat got up and smacked Clint's arm. 

"For the record, Katie and I still keep in touch, and when she's in town, we hang out," Nat purrs, and Clint turns red as she pat his shoulder and walked away to the kitchen to grab another beer. 

"Anyways," she calls out from the kitchen, "Sam, have any juicy stories about mister Bucky over there?" and Sam laughs as Bucky turns red. 

Clint regains his composure, and resumes his teasing. "Aw, Bucky's turning red! Sammy, give us the dirt!"

"Actually," Bucky says as Nat walks back in the living room, "I'm certain that Sam doesn't have any dirt on me," and Sam nods in agreement. 

"Yeah, man, not gonna lie, but for the few years I've known Bucky, he hasn't really gone on dates or done anything remotely stupid," Sam admits. "He's the sane one in this relationship," he says teasing, and ruffles Bucky's hair. 

"I've been on dates... and stuff!" Bucky turned red. "It's just... I haven't really met anyone interesting enough to really, you know..." he says, scratching his neck awkwardly. 

"Awwwww, Nat, I think I have a new favorite person, I'm bumping you down to number two on the list," Clint coos. 

"Bucky," Nat gasps, "I owe you my life," she rasps and grabs his forehead and kisses him, only to have a bottle cap thrown at her butt by Clint. 

"Y'all are idiots," Sam says, and lies back into the couch. 

"Shut up, bird boy," Nat says, and Sam throws Bucky a dirty look. 

"Hey, I told you it would catch on!" Bucky exclaims, and Sam flips his middle finger at him. 

They ended up hanging out until 2 am, and Pepper still had not come back yet. As Sam and Bucky were leaving out the door, and Nat and Clint exchanging goodbyes, a horrific look appeared on Clint's face. 

"Guys."

Bucky, Nat and Sam looked at Clint. 

"Pepper's not home yet, do you think that she and Tony are-"

"OH MY GOD THAT IS GROSS," Sam whines loudly, and Nat and Bucky laugh. 

"I'm literally having nightmares tonight, I'm cringing right now," Clint makes a face. 

"I hate you both so much," Nat complains, and Bucky laughs as he drags Sam away, yelling good night. Nat closes the door behind them and turns to Clint. 

"I have an idea."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos, comments and bookmarks are hugely appreciated and make my day 1037483934 times better.


	5. meadowland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is stuck, and goes to Professor Hale for help, and this leaves you readers quite frustrated and you're going to literally want to throw your phone at the wall because of course coincidences like this happen, but only to Bucky and Steve.
> 
> enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if there are any mistakes or some shit, or even if there aren't. idk man I'm thirsty for comments and kudos so do that shit.

Steven Grant Rogers was struggling. He was damn struggling. 

First of all, a recap. (HAH GET IT! ok sorry, the narrator deeply regrets having made that pun.) (but not really.) 

When Steve woke up the next morning, it was like 5 o'fuck am and he needed some damn coffee. Or some whiskey. Or both?

He settled for coffee. 

After sleeping for... ugh, God knows how long (it was 15 hours, he later realized with a sigh), his head was pounding. But, his body wasn't as achy as the day before, so he saw it as a sign that he was improving. He sat at the kitchen table and sipped on his bitter cup of coffee, too lazy to get up and pour some milk and sugar in it. 

Clint wouldn't be up for another 4 hours or so, and Steve pondered for a moment, wondering what to do with this quiet time he had free (Clint was extra loud in the morning, since he doesn't put on his hearing aids until after he showers, a bad habit which he picked up a while ago). He knew that he should be expecting a call from Nat sometime soon, scolding him for skipping out on their plans, but he would be able to reason with her, like he always does. 

Steve decides to go back into his room and pull out his big sketching pad from his bag. This one was different from the one he used yesterday while sketching- the paper was thick, and rough, and Steve loved the way the pencil (or charcoal, in this case) felt as he reached to cover all the extents of the paper. He used this sketch pad for things he needed to do for his Studio Art class, which he had tomorrow for an hour and a half. 

The assignment was simple- draw a figure. 

Sounded easy, right? 

But Steve knew that this figure, as Professor Fredricks said, had to be carefully planned out. He had his notes besides the sketchbook, and he sat for a moment

"Carefully consider the weight of the subject, how the person sits, how the angle of the person's body affects the overall form of the body," his handwriting was short and messy, uneven in the lines of the paper in front of him. Mostly doodles covered the page, with sparse notes here and there. 

"The subject"...

Well, damn, he'd need a person to sketch, and it was only him and his coffee in the kitchen, so he was stuck. He pushed his studio art stuff aside, and pondered again for another moment. He felt quite restless, but he remembers he has a midterm paper to do for Hale's class, and goes into his room to fetch his laptop from his bed. 

He opened up Google Docs, and opens the file for the document he had started typing on for this assignment. He had to find five pieces of postmodern art that define the era itself, and explain how, why and a ton of other fucking shit. Knowing Hale, she would want details, and not just technical ones, but rather their own opinions, thoughts and ideas. They also, in connection to this essay, had to recreate their own version of the piece, using what Hale and Fredricks said was "the essence, the ideas that flow from the piece itself" and interpret it in their own way. The good thing was, if it was a photograph or a painting, it didn't have to be recreated in the same way it originally was. It could be in any way. 

Steve had four of the five pieces that he was working on, and at the recommendation of Fredricks, had chosen his last piece, a oil painting titled "Meadowland" by Gerhard Richter, made in 1985. The painting was, in all aspects, a muddy-looking painting. The colors were bland, and personally, Steve didn't think it was all that great. But, his professor recommended it, and he would analyze the painting and all that jazz. 

Steve sat for an hour, looking at the painting and trying to decipher it, but came up with nothing. Zero. Zilch. 

He fiddled around on Google, at first researching some more work by Ritcher, but another hour passes and Steve finds himself on YouTube, watching a video of some guy falling on his ass in the snow. 

It was almost 8 o'clock in the morning, and now Steve was pissed. He didn't fucking get this damn motherfucking stupid painting! He truly was struggling. He decides to abandon it for a little bit, and go out for a walk to clear his mind, hoping that he would come back and somehow it would all magically come to him. 

It didn't. 

And now it was 9 o'clock in the morning, and Steve was seething. He grabbed all his stuff and decided to stop by to see Professor Hale, who was always in the lecture hall on weekday mornings. The walk was short, brisk, and Steve was frustrated and kicked a pile of leaves around as he waited to cross the street to the campus. When he reaches the building where the lecture hall is, he takes a deep breath in, and looks down for a moment. 

He then realized he's in pajama pants, but fuck it, he doesn't care (he does a little, because Professor Hale probably thinks he's already a little nuts, and this doesn't add to that in a positive way, he thinks).

He opens the door to the lecture hall, and walks down the aisle to where Hale was sitting at her desk, talking to someone. 

"Mr. Rogers, good morning!" she exclaims, and Steve internally cringes because how the fuck could anyone even be slightly as energetic as she was, especially on a Tuesday morning. "We don't have class today, so what brings you here?"

"Help- I need it, um," he croaked out. He cleared his throat, "You said that you would help with our midterm papers, and I really need help."

"Oh! Well you're definitely not who I expect to come to me for help, but sure, what's up?"

Steve looks down at the back of the head of someone sitting across from Hale at the other side of her desk, with their back toward him. "I have all five of my pieces I'm researching, but Professor Fredricks recommended this piece to me, and it's so annoying and I can't figure it out," he pauses. "If you're with someone right now, I can come back later?"

"Oh! No, James is just here working on some stuff, but now that I think of it-"

"So you can help me? Because I really don't get this shi- stuff," Steve says. 

"Hm," she pauses. "Very unlike you, unless it's a-"

"It's a Gerhard Ritcher piece, called 'Meadowland,' I think," Steve clarifies. 

"Ah, I figured," she scrunches her nose up. "You see, Steve, you are so capable and you understand everything I've ever thrown at you these last few years, yet you do not understand the concept of aestheticism."

"But I do! It's like, the whole..." he pauses, "It's where everyone thinks... I don't know, isn't it when it's like, nice to look at and shi- something," he says, and he feels his face turning red. Now, the young guy sitting across from Hale looks up at him, and Steve is too distracted to notice him. 

"I have a proposal for you, and you don't have to take it, but you really should because I'm your teacher and I know what's best," Professor Hale winks. 

"Um, okay."

"James?" The kid sitting across from her jerks up, and puts his pencil down. "This is Steve Rogers," she says, indicating for him to look at Steve. 

Steve sees a pair of bright blue eyes and dark, thick hair turn around and stare at him. Jesus Christ, Steve thinks, is this kid a male model or some shit? What the fuck. 

"Steve, this is James Barnes, he's taking my art history course, the one you took in your first year," she continues. 

"Hi," Steve says quietly. 

"He happens to be a brilliant engineering major, and he needed help with something he's been working on," she says, and beckons for Steve to sit down in the chair next to them. 

"I, uh- for my final project this year, we have to design and create a prototype for a project we think of- you know, like an invention. We have to, basically, design and create something from scratch," he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking back and forth from Hale to Steve and back. "My idea is an improved model of my, well- uh, my prosthetic arm. I was working out the logistics when I realized I didn't know what to do with the outer appearance."

"He claims to have no artistic ability, but this kid has a way with wires and design that is like nothing I've seen before," Professor Hale smiles at him, and James blushes. "He came to me, asking me for help in the design and to make it appealing to the common eye, but-"

"You want me to help him?"

"Yes."

"How can I help with that? You're the best there is!" Steve claims, and Bucky shifts in his seat. 

"Mr. Rogers, I've seen your art, and your skills may be on parr, if not, even better than mine. And besides, this is a perfect lesson on aesthetics!" Hale exclaims. 

"So, what? I just design the thing and I get the grade?" Steve asks. 

"No, not so simple," she says, and Steve visibly slumps. "You work with James, I give you an extra two weeks on top of the two weeks you have left on the assignment, and for the recreation of Meadowland, I want to see a painting that exemplifies your understanding of aesthetics."

"Uh, not to be rude or anything, but what does he know about aesthetics that I don't?" Steve asks, picturing in his head the slap that Nat would give him if she'd heard his attitude. 

"Engineering consists of making sure all things are in the right place," James says in a small voice. "Aesthetics in art is basically the same, except it's created differently."

"Couldn't have said it better myself!" Hale beams. "So? What do you say?"

"For the recreation, do I recreate the painting or do you want my own?" Steve asks. 

Hale pauses for a moment, "Your own- you know what, no, I have an idea. If your project with James works out, then you can hand it in and it'll count for one of the five!" she beams again, and Steve internally rolls her eyes, because this woman was a literally ball of energy and enthusiasm. "If this all works out, hopefully, you'll have a better understanding of aesthetics, and your paper will be done, and James will have his design!"

"Alright, I guess- if it's okay with you, James," Steve says, and James straightens up at the sound of his name. 

"Ye-yeah, sure," he says with a small smile. "I'm happy to help, and I'm sure it'll work out great."

"Yay! Okay, you two go, talk out your plans, and I'll see you," she points at James, "in an hour!" And with that, she picks up her bag and shuffles out swiftly. 

Steve and the stranger were left alone in the lecture hall. 

"Um-"

"Should we grab a cup of coffee?" James asks, and Steve nods his head. James gathers his stuff, and walks next to Steve. 

Steve was painfully aware of his own damn pajama pants. And of James's blue, blue eyes. And his face- God, he was attractive. 

"Ready?"

All Steve could do was nod, and then followed James out the door and onto the streets of campus. He knew there was a coffee shop down the street. 

"So, your an Art History major?"

Steve looks up, "Um- uh, yeah, I'm majoring in art history, and studio art, with a minor in European History and Psychology."

"That's really cool!" James smiles. "I'm gonna be an engineering major- you're probably wondering why I'm taking art history," he says, and chuckles. 

"Oh, yeah-"

"My mom's an art history teacher in my old high school, and she insists that if I'm going to become an 'old fart connecting wires,'" James was doing the quotes indication with his fingers and it was so so so damn cute, Steve though. "'Then I better damn sure I would be taking an art history course!'" He was smiling now, and Steve felt his stomach lurch because holy shIT HE IS SO CUTE. 

"And you're interested in engineering?"

"Yeah, having a prosthetic arm from a young age helped with that one," James smiles again and Steve literally wants to jump off a cliff because why was he so obsessed with someone he didn't know like what the fuck. 

They turn the street and head into the coffee shop. James smiles, and grabs them a table. "My treat, what do you want?"

"Oh- you don't have to-"

"You're designing the thing that's getting me through college, so shut up- what do you want?" James repeats, and Steve tells him he'll take a coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich because cheese is awesome. 

James returns to the table, plate in one hand and two hot drinks in the other. He grins at Steve, and hands him the coffee and pushes the plate in front of him. James sits, and watches Steve as he tentatively takes a bite of his sandwich. If James notices his black eye and bruised forehead, he doesn't say anything. 

"Good?"

"Hell yeah, have a bite," Steve says, and pushes the other half toward him. James takes it from him and bites it, and chews for a moment. And then, the most beautiful thing happens. 

He moans. 

God. 

Steve literally turns red because holy shit that went straight to his dick. 

"Holy crap, I haven't had a grilled cheese in forever, man," he smiles as he takes another bite, and Steve smiles back. "So, what's the plan?"

Okay, shift back into reality. No more picturing this stranger in your damn bed, Rogers, he says to himself mentally. 

"I have tomorrow afternoon free, we could meet up and discuss the logistics?" Steve suggests, and James nods. 

"I have a Robotics class in the morning, but I'm free afterwards," he says. "Why don't we meet here at 1, and we can go somewhere for lunch?"

Like a date? Steve thinks. 

No, no no no, get your head straight, Rogers, Steve scolds himself mentally. (hah, there goes the narrator with her hilarious puns! I hate myself too, don't worry).

"That sounds perfect, I'll bring my sketchbook and we'll do the stuff," Steve says, and James smiles and Steve wants to explode, right then and there. 

Steve Rogers was screwed. 

***

Clint was sprawled on the couch when Steve got home, lazily snacking on some chips and flipping through the channels. 

"Hey fatass," Steve teases, and Clint jumps up. 

"Steve! I have things to tell you!" 

"Did you and Nat finally fuck?" Steve dead pans, and Clint turns red. "Oh sorry, did you finally make looooove?" 

Clint throws a chip at his face. 

"No, you asshole, but last night was so fun, and you're a dumbass for not waking up and coming," Clint replies.

"Aw darn, looks like I'll have to hang out with you and Nat another time," Steve says sarcastically, and plops down next to Clint on the couch. 

"No, but you have to meet Sam's roommate, Bucky, he's totally fucking awesome-"

"Bucky? What the hell kind of name is Bucky?" Steve asks, and grabs a handful of chips from Clint's bowl. 

"Dude, I don't know, but this kid is awesome, you've gotta meet him, you two would hit it off," Clint says. 

"M'not interested in meeting someone," Steve says with a smile. 

"Steeveeeee, you're so annoyi- wait, you met someone."

"Maybe, he was just some guy but he's so-"

"Is he Bucky?"

"No."

"Then I don't care."

"Asshole," Steve says, and throws a chip at Clint, who responds with a middle finger. 

(cue the laugh track, because these kids are in for a ride).

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for any clarification (if you're not getting this), James is Bucky and Clint of course forgets that Bucky's name is actually James, and when he has the opportunity for Steve to make the connection, his dumb ass forgets. But yeah, enjoy. 
> 
> here's a link to Meadowland, it's rather beautiful: http://www.wikiart.org/en/gerhard-richter/meadowland


	6. the aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a lil bit of Bucky after the whole shebang, as well as Steve being an annoying shit and Sam being a sweetheart as per usual. enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments, kudos and that shit make me happy, so do what you readers do best!

Bucky was sitting in the lecture hall, staring at where Professor Hall was standing and talking, but not listening to a thing. 

This guy... Steve, he was absolutely gorgeous, thought Bucky. 

He was completely enamored- with the way he looked when he asked Bucky a question, and how he was genuinely interested in what Bucky had to say, and the way he picked up his grilled cheese sandwich and ate it with a smile and the way that he-

Bucky needed to get a hold of himself. He was being completely irrational, completely stupid. 

Unfortunately for you readers, Bucky didn't realize that the reason Steve smiled at him and listened to what he had to say, was because he too, was completely over-his-head dizzy at the thought of the other idiot. 

Bucky refocused on his lecture, taking notes and staring into to space yet again, thinking. 

And when Bucky thinks, he fucking doesn't stop. 

***

"Saaaaam, I'm back," Bucky called from the front door of their dorm. He closed the door behind him and dropped his bag at the door. 

"Hey, how did the talk with your professor go?" Sam appeared at the doorframe of his room, with an apple in his right hand and his phone in the other. 

"It was... good, didn't go as I thought it would, but it's all good," Bucky said with a smile, and his stomach lurched forward at the though of Steve. 

"Wanna go out for lunch? I'm starving and this apple does nothing for me," Sam asked, and tossed his apple in the trash can. 

"Yeah, give me a minute to change into sweatpants because I don't wanna wear jeans," Bucky says, and goes into his room, emerging a minute later in grey sweatpants, his hair a little less messy on the top (as messy as it was, it was never as bad as Bucky's long hair phase; his mother nearly disowned him after he refused to cut it, and he kept this up for a year until it was long enough to throw into a bun. Needless to say, she was relieved when he came home and his hair was a normal teenage- boy length.)

"'Kay, what do you wanna get?" 

***

Steve jumped from his spot on the couch when his phone rang suddenly. Clint was snoring next to him, and Steve was half asleep when it happened. 

He picked up the phone. 

"Steve Rogers, you ass."

"Wha-"

"Why didn't you come yesterday, I'm mad at you!" Nat's purr went up an octave, and Steve cringed. He didn't like making Nat upset. 

"I'm sorry, I just- I was exhausted after this weekend and my body needed sleep, Tasha. I'll come next time?" Steve says, hoping to subdue Nat's anger. 

"You bet your ass you will, because Sam wanted to see you and I also think that you should meet-"

"Bucky? Yeah, Clint told me but I'm not interested," Steve brushed it aside. 

"Why? He's so cute, Steve, and he likes guys and he is so sweet, and you would really like him," Nat insists. "Even if not romantically, you should be friends with him!"

"Why? I have you and Clint, I don't need more friends," Steve whined. 

"Steve, there's nothing wrong with wanting something, babe," Nat says, and there's a sadness in her voice because all she wants of this world, is for the people she cares about to have happiness. "He's a great guy, and-"

"Tasha, I'm busy these next few weeks, but if I promise to meet him after midterms, will you leave me alone?" Steve gives in. 

"But that's so long from now, Steve-"

"Nat!"

"Fine, I guess," she's reluctant. "But you owe Sam an apology because the kid wanted to see you, and you bailed."

"I didn't- ugh, fine," Steve concedes. "Bye, Nat, I'll see you later for dinner," he says softly, and Nat returns the goodbye and hangs up. 

Steve tosses his phone on the coffee table and looks at Clint, thinking about how he had the best friends ever. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be different, it'll be a flashback to the time Nat and Clint met 1/2 of our dumb couple (Steve, if you're not getting what I'm going at.)


	7. when roommates became wingmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how two ex-snipers met a young (not-so-small) steve rogers on his first day of college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm having a really bad day because the college board screwed me over and didn't send me an admissions card for the SAT and my parents are mad at me and blame me, SO basically this'll be all fluff to make me happy.

When Steve Grant Rogers, freshman in college and really tall, walked into his new dorm, his new roommate was sitting on an empty mattress, munching on some chips and balancing an arrow on his finger. 

"Um-"

"Hey there," the stranger says, and lets the arrow fall on his lap. 

"What is-"

"Clint Barton, nice to meet you," Clint Barton smiles and points the bag toward Steve. "Chips?"

"Oh, um- I guess- sure," Steve stutters, and walks toward his new roommate and puts his hand in the bag. "Steve Rogers, nice to meet you."

"Dude, you're huge," Clint comments with a smile and laughs. "We're totally gonna go and hit up some girls, you'll be my wingman."

"Wingman? You're gonna need much more than a wingman, even if he looks like that."

Steve heard the voice before he saw the person, and a hand was on his shoulder. A head full of red hair and a sultry face appeared before him. "Natasha Romanoff, nice to meet you- sort of."

"Nat, just because you want me and can't have me, don't mean everyone else doesn't want me," Clint says with a wink.

Nat plops down next to Clint and grabs the bag of chips from his hand and starts munching. Steve just stands there, looking at them. 

"So, Steve, who are you?" Nat asks, and bites a chip. 

"I'm Steve?"

"Yeah, no shit I knew that, but-"

"Nat, let's not scare him off, we got lucky that he's not some serial killer," Clint says, and grabs the bag of chips back. 

Steve, tentatively watching the two of them, decides that maybe they weren't so bad. "How do you know I'm not a serial killer?"

Clint pauses for a moment. "Touché."

"Although, I would think someone who looks like you wouldn't need to kill someone to get what they want," Nat says and gets up and saunters toward Steve. "I mean," she puts her hand on his bicep, "look at these muscles, you can make God cry with them."

"Naaaat, stop scaring off my roommate!" Clint whines, and Nat smiles. 

"I'm not scaring you, am I?" Nat asks, and Steve shrugs. "See, Barton? I'm not scary I told you!"

"Well, I mean you're scary, but I'm not being scared off," Steve admits, and Clint laughs. 

"Hah! I like this one, let's keep him," Clint says with a smile, and Nat rolls her eyes. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this was short but I'm posting something else soon!


	8. this journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve both overthink their first meet up, and thus we begin our first journey, featuring Thor and his poetic diction, and a lot of blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that whenever it's focused on Bucky, I use the name Bucky, but when it's on Steve I use James. When they're together, I just use James because it's more of Steve's perspective. 
> 
> also, yes it's gonna be a while until they make the connection, but hey, this is slow build

Steve was giddy. 

He knew that after his Studio Art class today, he'd be meeting up with James for lunch- albeit a lunch to do school stuff, but nevertheless, he was giddy. 

Steve knew-well he thought- that this was all for nothing. He met the guy once, didn't even know the kid's last name, but he didn't care. As long as he got to look at his face- it was so pretty, ugH. 

And as long as he wasn't wearing pajama pants, he felt confident that James would like him, too. Not in thaaaat way, but at least in a way that suggests that one day they would fuck and be in-

Steve was getting ahead of himself, wasn't he, readers?

He rubs his hands over his face, and focuses on the lesson. Fredricks was talking about techniques, or something like that. Steve's knee was bouncing and he was drumming on his other knee with with fingers. Time could not possibly move slower, because every second felt like eternity. 

He didn't know why he was so excited- okay, maybe he kind of did, because the kid was really cute and he seems so genuinely interested in what Steve has to say (sound familiar?) Whatever it was, it was lame and he did not care one bit. 

He looked at the clock on the studio wall- it says 11:47. He finishes class at 12, and then has a whole hour until he meets up with James- a whole freaking hour, what the fuck. 

He didn't know what he was feeling anymore, whether it be confusion or or attraction or all of them together at once? 

UGH. 

Time. could. not. possibly. move. slower. 

***

Bucky was sitting in his Robotics class, watching as Professor Irwin demonstrated something- Bucky wasn't sure what it was, because he was too busy thinking. 

Did Steve think this was a date? Because like, Bucky had said to him that they would meet for lunch, and that means a meal and that means a date, no? He internally groans, because what the hell was he doing!

This guy was literally the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen- he was so tall, and muscular and his face was so, it was so... it looked like it was carved out by God himself. And here was Bucky, with his normal dark hair and boring blue eyes and a regular body and he freaking wires shit for fun. 

(please note, that this in no way reflects the author's opinion of Bucky because I literally love him more than I love my own mother, but that's not important.)

How in God's name would a guy like Steve Rogers even want to consider a guy like him? I mean, he was probably straight, for all Bucky knew. What if he doesn't show up because he scared him off, because his words sounded like they implied that it was a date? Maybe he should say "no homo, bro"? 

No, that'd make it worse because then Steve would know that Bucky was interested. Wait- was he interested? Hm. But what if Steve thought that Bucky was a weird cripple? With a weird prosthetic arm? What if he just pitied Bucky, and did this because he felt bad for him? 

Bucky's head was swarming with thoughts, and he didn't even notice when Professor Irwin had dismissed everyone. Bucky was sitting alone in the room, with only his professor rummaging through his bag. 

"Distracted, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's head shot up, and Irwin was sitting there looking directly at him. 

"Sorry-"

"Don't apologize, James, I'm sure there's a good reason as to why you're distracted," Irwin says with a smile, and Bucky smiled back, because yeah, there was. 

***

"Steve!"

Steve turned around and heard footsteps coming towards him, and James was standing in front of him moments later. 

"James, hi," Steve said with a smile, and James smiles back and Steve's stomach flips. 

"I'm sorry, I was speaking to my professor and I lost track of time," James had an apologetic look on his face. 

"It's cool, don't worry," and Steve is wringing his wrists in embarrassment because he knew, he just knew, that his face was turning red because James was smiling at him and it's all he could think about. 

"So, there's this restaurant down on Birch Avenue and it's pretty chill, so I figured we can go, and we can eat and talk about the project?" James asks, and Steve nods. 

Remember the project? Steve tells himself, James only needs you for his project, he continues. 

"Alright, great!" James grins, and he starts walking.

"How was your class?" Steve asks, and internally cringes because why why why why whyyyyy would you ask about school and you sound so lame, dude, he tells himself. 

"Great! We just review some basic stuff for the class, because for our next..."

Steve could only stare at James as he continued talking, because this kid was absolutely engrossed with what he was talking about, he just cares so much (hah, ironic, amiright readers?!) and it was just so freaking cute. 

"That sounds cool," Steve says and smiles, and James smiles back. "Sounds a lot cooler than all of my art classes, all we do is sit in paint."

James laughs, and Steve's stomach does the flip again. "Well, it's not all that great but I enjoy it," he says, and they cross the road to the other side of the street, and then turn down Birch Avenue. "The place is like all the way down the block, I didn't realize how long the walk would be."

"'S alright, I like walking," Steve says, and he literally resists the urge to hit himself on the head becaUSE WHY DOES JAMES CARE IF HE LIKES WALKING. 

"You'll probably think I'm lazy, but I hate walking so much, man," James scratches the back of his neck, which Steve notices is a habit of his. "To be honest, any physical activity makes me wanna die."

"Well, you're pretty fit so you clearly are doing something right," Steve says and hoLY SHIT HE JUST WANTS TO FUCKING DIE BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK. 

WHAT THE FUCK, Steve repeats in his head over and over. 

But James brushes the comment aside, or doesn't see it as weird, and says, "Truth, it's all the PT I do because of my arm. I really don't need to anymore but my mom pushes me to do it because every time I go home, I look like I gained fifteen pounds since the time I was there last."

"Still, it's probably not a lot of effort, is it?"

"Nah, it used to be hard on me but it's kind of routine now," James says.

"I work my ass off just to stay in shape because I was this skinny little motherfucker years ago, and that's not something I like to look like,"Steve comments dryly. 

"You?! Skinny?! I'm honestly having a hard time picturing that, man," James laughs, and Steve blushes, because it's not the first time he'd heard that. 

"Yeah, back when I was a kid, I was real sick a lot, and I was so skinny and tiny and shit, but once I hit puberty I basically shot up," Steve explains. "My aunt could barely keep up with me, she had to scrabble for money to buy me new clothes once a month."

"Your aunt?"

"Oh, yeah, my mom passed away when I was five, so I had lived with her sister until I was eighteen," Steve explains shyly, and James ducks his head. 

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"

"No! Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal," Steve says, and it's true, because he hadn't really knew his mom, and his aunt was all he had ever known. "My aunt is like my mother, to be honest. She's a real sweetheart."

"That's good," James says with a small smile. "Oh, we're here, this is it!" and he's pointing to a small little hole in the wall restaurant, called "Asgard." James leads them in, holding the door for Steve who blushes and mutters a thank you. He leads Steve to a table, and sits down in one seat and puts his bag right next to him. 

"This place is great, from what I've heard. Two brothers own it, and they always bicker, but the food here is amazing so apparently it's worth it," James says, and Steve smiles. 

"Hello, my brothers," a tall, muscular figure towers over them. "How can I help you today? My name is Thor-"

"Thor, get your ass back in here," a shout came from behind the counter and through the door. 

"One moment, brothers, I shall be back," and the shoulder length blond and muscles marches away. As he does, James looks over at Steve and mouths "Thor?" and Steve cracks up. 

"Why is he calling us brother?" Steve questions, and James shrugs. 

"The dude talks like he's in the 17th century, but it's entertaining," James says, and Steve nods his head in agreement and smiles. "My roommate Sam told me the food here is good, so I'm trusting him."

Steve pauses for a moment, because he knows a Sam Wilson, but brushes it off because there are dozens of Sams on this campus. 

"I'm good with whatever, it was either this or pizza with my dumbass roommate- not, not that I don't wanna be here but I was just- you know, I was-"

"Its alright, I got it," James says as he laughs, and Steve turns red.

"I'm sorry, brothers, but my partner back in the kitchen needed help," Thor reappears in front of them, towering over them once again. "Can I interest you two in beverages?"

"Oh, I'll just have water," Steve says, Thor nods. 

"Do you have tea?" James asks, and Thor smiles. 

"Yes, we have green tea, I can bring a pot for you?" Thor asks, and James nods enthusiastically. "Alright, I'll be right back, my friends, and I shall take your orders," and with that, the ridiculously large man matches away again. 

"So, shall we get started?" Bucky asks, imitating their waiter, and Steve sniggers. 

"Yes, my brother, we shall begin this journey of friendship," Steve jokes back, and James cracks up laughing and all Steve can do is look at this young man in front of him, and smile. 

***

"So, you want to construct it that way?" Steve asks, sipping his glass of water. 

"Yes, I think logistically it'll work out better that way, and if we panel it that way," James points out at the diagram, "then it'll still look sleek, but it'll take up the same amount of space as before."

"That's genius, holy crap. I would've never thought of that," Steve gushes, and James blushes. "And it makes sense, because otherwise it would look too bulky, no?"

"Exactly what I was thinking, and with your help, it'll look a million times better," James says, and he takes a bite of his sandwich. 

"We still have to discuss the paneling, and it's gonna be hard to pinpoint how it'll work," Steve brushes off the compliment, not wanting to blush in front of James yet again. 

"So we meet up again? How about Friday?" James asks, and Steve nods. "I only have my Dynamics class at 8, so we can do a late breakfast?"

"Are you just using me to find an excuse to eat good food?" Steve teases, and James swallows his food and sticks his tongue out at Steve, and he laughs. 

"Maybe I am," James teases back, and Steve kicks him under the table, and James laughs in response. 

"I'm messing with you, breakfast sounds great," Steve says. "We can go to the diner my roommate always goes to."

"Our roommates eat a lot," James casually comments, and Steve thinks about Clint, who is totally sitting on the couch eating chips right now, because that's his favorite thing to do- well, that and pine after Nat. 

"Dude, you don't know the half of it," Steve mutters, and James laughs. 

"I am sorry to interrupt your date, my friends, but I just wanted to check on everything," Thor suddenly reappears. 

"Oh, no this isn't a-"

"It's all great, Thor, you and your brother have a fantastic place," James compliments with a smile, and Thor lights up. 

"Thank you, brother, I am immensely grateful for your kind words," Thor says with a smile. "Let me know when you have everything," he says and puts down the bill and walks away. 

Steve, red at that the thought of James and him being on a date, looks down at his plate. 

"Hey, this is on me, okay?" James grabs his wallet out of his bag. 

"No, I got it-"

"Steve, you're helping me with something that I could never do on my own, just let me pay," James says softly, and Steve hesitates before nodding. 

"I get breakfast, then, and you can't say no," Steve teases with a smile, and James laughs and Steve's stomach does the flippy thing again and Steve could really, really get used to this.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thirsty for comments and kudos.
> 
> also I have a busy few weeks ahead of me because of finals and shit so don't expect as much posting. I'll try and write as often as I can with whatever free time I can find :)


	9. excessive usage of the winky face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve put his number on bucky's phone, and flirting ensues. 
> 
> feat. sam as a nosy little shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this, leave kudos and comments bc legit I'm sad and they make me happy ok cool bye

Bucky collapsed on his bed, deep in thought. How does a human being look like that- like the way Steve does? He's so... ugh. 

Bucky felt his stomach lurch because he thought of Steve compared to him and realized that Steve would never want some plain old, regular college student like him. I mean, Steve was beyond normal- he was tall, he was muscular and fit, he had a gorgeous face. How could this guy even be in college? Why isn't he some sort of male model, like what the hell.

Bucky started biting his nails, a bad habit of his. He was starting to get anxious, because this was all new territory for him. Meeting guys, and actually liking them? I mean, sure, Sam had set him up on a few dates and they were alright, but no one ever stuck out like Steve did when he first saw him. And it sucks, Bucky thought, because Steve would never like me, and he's someone I finally like. 

He decided that he really did like Steve, because he was just such a wonderful person. And on Friday, when he sees him again, he's gonna try his best to avoid any conversation about anything other than the project, because Bucky did not want to get his hopes up- he couldn't possibly get his hopes up. 

His phone buzzed. 

steve rogers: i really want breakfast now

Bucky chuckled. Before they had left, Steve grabbed his phone and put his number in it, and texted him so that he could save Bucky's own number. 

You see, Bucky thought that Steve just didn't want anything other than a good grade on his project, but when he got this text from Steve, his stomach fluttered and he couldn't help but smile because this guy, this freaking guy, would be the death of him. 

"Hey, Buck, you home?" Sam called from the front door, and slammed it behind him. "Ugh never mind, I see your ugly ass shoes on the floor, I know you're here."

"Yeah, I'm in here- and those shoes are not ugly, they're unique," Bucky insists, thinking of his beat up white converse, covered in random doodles and dirt. 

"How was class?" Sam asks, as he walks into Bucky's room. 

"Fine, the usual," Bucky says, and he feels guilty. He knows he should tell Sam about his kind-of-crush on Steve, but he was scared. Scared because he knew that Sam would push him to ask him out on a date, or something forward like that. And Bucky just was too scared to do that. 

"Wanna get lunch?" Sam asks, and plops on Bucky's bed. "I'm fucking starved, man."

"Nah, not too hungry," replied Bucky, thinking of his lunch with Steve but not saying anything. 

"Your loss, I want pizza," Sam says, and gets up with a sigh. "I'm ordering a pie, you're welcome to have some if you want."

"Ew, no," Bucky says, and sits up from lying down. "You're gonna order onion and that shit is gross."

"Well I'm sorry I don't like olives on my pizza, you freak," Sam teases with a smile, and walks out the room. "Offer still stands!" he yells from inside. 

***

james: well ur gonna have to wait until friday to get breakfaSt ;) 

Steve smiles so big that his face starts to hurt. He texted James hoping that maybe he'd answer, maybe they can start texting and be friends in a way that wasn't based on designing prosthetic arms. 

Not that it was bad, or anything! Steve was happy that he had the chance to help James, but it's like... he sat with him in Asgard and they ate lunch and they talked like they had known each other for years now. They talked and joked around with one another so easily, it kind of scared Steve. 

And Steve was okay with the idea that he may have to be friends with James, and friends only. I mean, he was gonna die every time James smiled and groaned in frustration and said something cute, but Steve decided it was worth it to suppress the need to combust every time James did something cute, and he decided it was worth it to be James's friend. 

And hey, maybe his text to James was a little flirty, if not desperate. But, Steve didn't care because it didn't matter what James thought of him- nothing could happen, nothing could be wrong. 

*** 

steve rogers: great so now u have control over my breakfast habits?? so demanding ;)

Bucky pauses, not sure how to respond. 

steve rogers: does this mean I cant have breakfast tom morning? idk how long i could surviveeeee

Bucky laughs, and texts back. 

me: ill allow u to have breakfast tom, but u have to send a picture so that i dont feel left out 

Less than a minute later, Bucky's phone buzzes. 

steve rogers: of me or the food? ;)

Okay, that was outright flirting. Bucky didn't know what to do, so he decided to beat Steve at his own game. 

me: whatever helps u sleep at night, stevie :)))

Bucky through his phone down on his bed, hoping he didn't scare Steve off or make him feel weird, but less than thirty seconds later, his phone buzzed again. 

steve rogers: since when do u call me stevie?

It buzzed again. 

steve rogers: i like it ;)

Bucky tried to suppress his grin, but with no luck. 

me: then u better take that pic stevie, or I wont b calling u that anymore

Now Bucky was full on blushing, and Sam walks in. 

"What are you smiling about?" Sam asks suspiciously, and looks down and sees Bucky holding his phone. "Who're you texting, Buck?"

"Nothi- no one, Sammy-"

Sam sits down on the bed and tries to look at the phone. "Buuuuckkkkyyyy-"

"It's just some guy helping me with my project, that's all-"

"So he's cute? Are you guys text-flirting? ARE YOU GUYS SEXTING!" Sam bounced up and tries to grab the phone from Bucky, but with no luck. 

"Jesus, you're like a teenage girl- and I would know, I lived with one most of my life," Bucky says, trying to distract Sam. 

"So you're sexting then?"

"No!"

"Come on, just show me!" Sam whines, and Bucky gets up from the bed with his phone in his hand. "I won't tease you, just show me."

"Sammy, stop, nothing is happening, it's no one important-" his phone buzzes. 

steve rogers: oh is that a threat? ur very controlling, u know that james? ;)

Jesus, Bucky thought, the man was full of innuendos, he has to stop using that stupid winky face. 

"Is that him?!" Sam jumps and tries to look at the phone. "Lemme see!"

"Sam I'm legit going to kill you if you don't-"

"Fine, bitch, be like that. But don't come crying to me," Sam points at himself, "when your new boy does something you don't understand." And with that, Sam marches out of Bucky's room dramatically. 

God, Bucky needed to find less hormonal people in his life. 

me: u sure do like that winky face, dontcha stevie?

Bucky waits, watching the screen. 

steve rogers: yeah, that and breakfast but uve taken that away from me, u monster

Bucky smiles, and pauses to think of a response. 

me: all I ask for is a cute selfie, rogers

A few seconds pass and Steve texts him back. 

steve rogers: awwwww u think im cute james? ur cute tooooooooo ;)

Bucky decides to stop the flirting, because soon enough he's going to end up permanently red in the face from embarrassment. 

me: oh shut up, rogers 

A few seconds pass. 

steve rogers: only if u call me stevie

me: jesus, nd I thought I was demanding, stevie

steve rogers: ;))))

Bucky blushed again. Dammit.


	10. strong grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a phone call, a frustrated steve and a bad incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: for violence and also assault(?) and basically steve letting himself be touched when he doesn't want to be. So yeah, warning for a form of sexual assault and some violence and panic attack.  
> ALSO: alcohol use

Thursday Morning:

steve rogers: james we have an issue

Bucky's heart jumped at the text, because maybe something happened or maybe Steve just doesn't like him or maybe-

steve rogers: french toast or waffles?

Bucky let out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding in. 

me: jesus i thought u were dying or some shit ok no more using alerting words for u

Bucky put his pen in his mouth, and ignored the papers in front of him on his desk. He was literally sitting there, staring at his phone and waiting for Steve to text him back. Bucky didn't know he was that desperate- go figure. 

His phone starts ringing. Bucky's breathing stops when he sees Steve's name pop up on the screen. Why was Steve calling him? 

Bucky swipes to answer and puts the phone to his ear. 

"Hello?"

"Okay, first of all," Steve's voice pours out from the phone, "if there was an emergency that left me in danger, why the ever loving fuck would I text you 'hey we have an issue'? I would be too busy dying."

"Oh- well yeah, that's true."

"Second of all, I need an answer because the waitress is giving me a dirty look."

"Steve, why are you calling me?"

"Why not?"

"Okay true, valid point. Also, waffles, obviously," Bucky says, and he smiles because Steve was thinking about him and Steve called him and just... Steve, man. 

"I need a reason, James," Steve says, and there's a clang in the background, presumably a waitress collecting someone's dishes or some shit. 

"Because I love waffles, and you asked me which one, so if I were there I would get waffles," Bucky says, as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"Speaking of, why aren't you here?"

"Because you didn't invite me," Bucky says with another smile. 

"I should've invited you," Steve says with a snort. "At least we have tomorrow!"

"Yeah, at least we have tomorrow," Bucky repeats Steve's words with a soft voice, and a minute later, Steve hangs up saying he needed to do homework and Bucky is sitting at his desk again, staring at the papers scattered. 

***

After their breakfast on Friday morning (which involved a lot of awkward blushing and mouthfuls of- no, not each other's dicks- waffles and also a lot of flirting), Steve and James planned on meeting the next Wednesday evening. This meant, for Steve, five days until he would see the blue-eyed boy again, and Steve was just a little grumpy about it. 

You see, every time he saw James or thought of him, he just had to flirt- like it was a natural thing, second nature. Steve just sees James and he has to make him blush and smile because dammit, the pretty boy deserved it. And Steve knew it was risky, hell, it was scary for him to just talk to someone like James-all pretty and shit- and Steve knew it was risky. Because maybe James would get upset at the flirting or just uncomfortable or mad or grossed out and that is literally the last thing Steve wants in the world. Besides, Steve doesn't know if James is even interested in guys- like, he could obviously have anyone he ever wanted. But James hasn't mentioned a guy, or a girl or anyone like that- just his roommate Sam, but that was it. 

Steve was still apprehensive, yet when he saw James or thought of him and texted him, it just sort of falls out of his mouth, not by choice. And the best part was, James didn't care that it might've been weird; he responded in a flirty way, too! So Steve figured that he may as well go all out- well, not all out, but he isn't going to hold himself back all the way, at least. 

But five days was too far away, and Steve was frustrated, and stupid class wasn't helping at all. After class ends, he walks to his car and promptly begins to drive as he speed-dials Clint. 

"Hey, fucker," he says when he hears a sigh. 

"Why are you calling me, loser, I have-"

"Okay, I'm bored as fuck with no more class today and I'm in a bad mood and I need alcohol," Steve mutters. 

"Dude no fucking way, I am not going out with you again, especially not at a bar, no way," Clint whines. 

"Aw, come on, fucking please?" Steve's voice went up an octave. 

"Only if we bring Nat-"

"She isn't gonna sleep with you if she drinks alcohol, the girl can drink a whole bar and still walk straight," Steve retorts, and turns the street down to their block. 

Clint snorts, "very funny, but I know you're gonna want a quick fuck and I don't wanna be bored while you hit up some idiotic freshman at the bar."

"I am not going to-"

"Oh, please, save the drama for your diary, Steve-"

"ITS A JOURNAL AND YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T MAKE FUN OF ME," Steve groans, and turns into the driveway. 

"Can I bring Nat, then?"

Steve stops the engine. "Fine, but only Nat and no one else," he insists. 

"Not even-"

"Nope."

"But what about-"

"No."

"Fucker," Clint grunts, and Steve slams the car door behind him. "You're home?"

"Yeah, outside," Steve says as he walks toward the entrance of their complex. 

"Don't come in my room," Clint grunts again and hangs up the phone. 

"What the fu- whatever," Steve rolls his eyes and walks up the steps to their floor. When he opens the door of their apartment, he decides that Clint probably isn't jerking off or some shit and so Steve, expecting nothing but stupidity, walks into Clint's room. 

Clint is standing on top of his desk in his pajamas and bare feet, with his body faced toward the wall and brow furrowed in concentration. He doesn't hear Steve come in his room and goes about his business. He takes a step back and jumps, pushing himself off the wall and trying to- the narrator assumes- land on his bed with his two feet. 

"PARKOU- oh fuCK!"

Clint, the idiot, lands on his stomach on the floor in front of him, and then notices Steve standing by the doorway. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Barton?"

"I was watching American Ninja Warrior or whatever the fuck it's called, and I decided that parkour is my true calling," Clint mutters, and props himself up on his elbows. "You weren't supposed to come in."

"Believe me," Steve starts turning away from the doorway, "I wish I hadn't."

"I'm so cool, don't lie!" Clint calls from behind Steve, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Keep telling yourself that, Barton."

***

The club was, in every aspect, trashy. The floor vibrated, the music was loud as hell, and people were on top of one another, everyone covered in sweat and desperation and it was everything Steve despised. Yet, here he was, with Clint and Nat, standing at the bar and nursing a shot in his hand, apprehensive at the sight of people grinding on people. But, Steve thought, it was either pining over James, or drinking some damn alcohol. 

Steve downed the shot. 

"Rogers, you okay?" Nat practically screamed in his ear after she downed her respective drink. Steve nodded, downed two more shots, and walked away from her and Clint, toward the dance floor. He immediately blended into the crowd, and all eyes would, in the midst of the dancing, find their way to Steve at some point during the night, who was unaware of the attention he brought onto himself as he swayed his hips lightly to the music. 

Steve felt nothing as he danced, and watch the people around him and felt the hands on him. He didn't care. He let some girl grab him close and move their hips to the beat together, and he let himself indulge in the touch of some tall guy who wouldn't keep his hands off of him. 

It was a few minutes into Steve dancing with this stranger, when he grabbed his wrist and slowly led him off the dance floor. Steve, not really caring and practically stumbling over himself (he was quite the lightweight), let the man lead him where he wanted. On the way to wherever they were going, he spotted Clint with his arms on some tall blonde's lower back, and Nat sitting at the bar and talking to some girl. 

The stranger had a tight grip on Steve's wrist. He led him to the back of the club, and dragged him to the wall where no one was, which was weird, because the rest of the club was not li-

The stranger suddenly had his mouth on Steve's, forcing his tongue into Steve's mouth and Steve didn't resist because he didn't care. The stranger pushed Steve's shoulder against the wall, and had his entire body against Steve's as he paced their kissing faster and rougher and Steve started to lose his breath and felt as if he was suffocating and pushed the stranger away. 

"Hey-"

"This is- it's all, too-"

"C'mon, who cares," the stranger insists, and pushes his body back on Steve's and Steve just feels uncomfortable as the stranger pushes his tongue back in Steve's mouth, and his hands are on his hips. They feel warm against Steve's skin, which suddenly felt cold and the stranger was running his hands up Steve's torso and Steve's heart started beating faster and faster and the stranger had one hand on his chest and another tight on Steve's hip. 

"Stop."

The stranger looked at Steve as he tried to wiggle out of his grip, and pushed him against the wall again. "Please, stop."

"Shut up, man, just-"

Steve was wriggling his wrist from the stranger's grip and pushed himself off the wall, looking around frantically. 

"I have to go find my friends-"

The stranger pushed him against the wall again, and Steve didn't resist, knowing it would help the stranger's persistence. He lets him kiss him again, but his head starts rushing and his body feels cold as the stranger has a tight grip on his shoulders and he feels trapped and he pushes the stranger away again. 

"Please, I can't do this."

"Fucking stop it and let me-"

"You heard him, get the fuck off him."

Clint was standing a few feet away, looming above them with his arms crossed and looking directly at the stranger, who turned around at the sound of his voice. 

"Fuck off, this isn't any of your business, asshole," the stranger says, and takes his hands off Steve's shoulders. Steve looks at Clint, who has a look on his face that would read as neutral to anyone else, but Steve knew it was a deadly look. 

"Well actually, asshole," Clint imitates the stranger's raspy voice, "it is damn well my business when my best friend is being forced against his own will and is too fucking scared to stick up for himself."

Steve felt his face go red, because he knew he could've stuck up for himself but he didn't care. He felt ashamed, he felt disgusted with himself. 

"So get the fuck off of him, or I won't hesitate to get my hands on you, motherfucker," Clint threatens, and the stranger walks away from Steve and toward Clint. 

"Oh, really? And what could you fucking do, you pussy?" He was up in Clint's face, and Clint had his hands at his sides as he cleared his throat. 

"Are you really sure you want to find out?"

The stranger glares, and all Steve can do is watch as Clint steps into the stranger's space, and gets shoved back into a wall. 

"You motherfu-" Clint spits, and then the blow lands. Steve wants to move, he does, but his body won't let him and he starts feeling dizzy. Clint's hand is gripped on the stranger's second fist, and he shoves him back. He jumps up and charges toward him confidently, and the stranger takes offense and jabs his fist into Clint's stomach, which is returned a few seconds later. 

The stranger is clutching his stomach, and Clint balls is fist and grabs the guy by his t-shirt and shoves him up against the wall and starts punching- punching everywhere, and the stranger can't fight back. 

Steve can't see straight, can't see anything and he's on the verge of a panic attack and his body is shaking as he falls to the floor and he can't stop shaking because he's watching his best friend beat up this guy and-

"Clint, stop it."

Nat had pulled him back by his shoulder, and the stranger had slumped against the wall and practically falls to the floor. Clint is breathing heavily, and Nat pushes him further away and runs toward Steve, who is sitting on the floor a few feet away from the stranger, with his hands balled up so tight, and his knuckles and the rest of his body practically as white as a fucking cloud. 

"Rogers, you're not okay," she says softly, even over the loud, thumping music. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is our baby letting himself get hurt? why is he so scared?
> 
> hi guys! so this is the first part of what I'm posting, I'm posting another chapter soon. All my finals are over so yay summer! I'm a senior!! yay!!! but anyways, I'm sorry for the not-so-fluff towards the end, but hey, it gets worse before it gets better, amiright? 
> 
> don't kill me lmao. 
> 
> but yay for defensive bff Clint and also parkour Clint because lol. 
> 
> anyways, it'll be up soon.


	11. not a burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the confrontation and some banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, this is the last thing I'm posting tonight, I may post later this weekend. enjoy!

Nat, Steve, and Clint said nothing on the car ride back to the latter two's apartment. Nat was driving and Clint sat in the driver's seat, physically fine and verbally not saying anything at all (and readers, we all know that Clint not speaking says a lot in itself).

Steve sat in the back, not daring to look in Nat and Clint's direction and staring out the car window. When they pulled up to the apartment, he scrambled out for the car, not bothering to close the door behind him and fumbled with the keys as he walked toward the door to their complex and up the stairs to their floor. 

Knowing Nat and Clint were following his direction behind him, he entered the apartment and practically sprinted to the door to his room, and slammed the door behind him. 

***

Steve woke up the next day at 1:28 pm, and his chest felt hollow and his head felt heavy and everything ached. He sat up in bed, and looked down, realizing he was still wearing the jeans and t-shirt from last night, and- to his horror- was still wearing his leather combat boots. 

He stood up and wrestled out of his jeans, and tugged his boots off his feet and threw the two in the general direction of his closet. He grabbed his duvet cover and threw it over his head and wrapped it around his body and sauntered warily into the kitchen. 

Nat and Clint were sitting at the counter, eating sandwiches and engaged in some lively conversation that Steve couldn't bring himself to listen to. He dragged himself toward the fridge and tugged it open. 

At this point, Nat and Clint's voices had subdued, and Steve assumed (correctly) that they were watching him. He grabbed a small container of yogurt, thanking his past-self for buying them a week ago at the supermarket, despite Clint's protests. He closed the fridge and stood facing toward the it. 

"Take a fucking picture, it'll last longer," he deadpans and rolls his eyes. He turns to the counter and grabs a spoon from the drawer. 

"Wow, good one," Nat comments sarcastically, and Clint leans back in his chair. Steve scowls and pushes the drawer back in and walks promptly back into his room. 

He marches back to his bed and plops on the mattress and grabs his laptop which was haphazardly strewn on the floor next to his bed. He half tosses, half places it in front of him and throws the top open and waits for everything to reload. 

The first thing that pops up is all his links, most of which were about the stupid research paper and project he had to do. There was also a link open to when he looked up the company that James's arm was made by (he had saw the name when James leaned over to grab his bag and his shirt had rode up on his arm). He angrily exited out all the pages and typed in the address for Netflix and clicked on The West Wing and started watching an episode. 

He opened up his yogurt and started eating and finally got comfortable and watched as the show's opening scene unraveled. 

A few minutes pass before he hears a knock on his door. 

"Steve? Can I come in?" a muffled voice asks, and Steve doesn't answer Natasha because he couldn't care less. "Steve, get your hand out of your pants because I'm coming in-"

"I'm not-"

Nat opens the door and cocks her head and the sight of Steve, which was, he admitted to himself, probably odd. He was sitting with his blanket wrapped around him completely and his head sticking out and his arm holding a spoon which peaked out, as well. 

"Rogers-"

"I'm fine, Nat," Steve says, and eats a spoonful of yogurt. 

"I was gonna say that I made you a sandwich and it's on the counter, but sure, we can dive right in," she smirks, and Steve groans. Nat walks over and plops on his bed, and crosses her legs and stares intently at him. 

"Alright, Rogers, spit it out," she says. 

"There's nothing to say," he replies dryly. 

"Bullshit," she says, and pauses. "Have you been taking your medication?" she asks more softly. 

Steve groans, "Nat, this has nothing to do with-"

"Steve! This has everything to do with it, actually, and if you've been skipping out on your medication," she says, "then I have to do something about it."

"It's not- that's not, it's not that!" he stammers, and Nat rolls her eyes. 

"So, hotshot, what is it? Why didn't you fucking defend yourself like the way you and I and Clint know that you can? Because we all know your more than capable-"

"God, Nat, just drop it," Steve insists, and slams his laptop close. Nat stops, and looks at Steve with her eyes squinted. 

"Steve..."

"Nothing happened, I don't know why Clint did what he did," Steve says dryly, and Nat snorts. 

"Fucking idio- Steve, have you been taking your damn meds?" she had a steady voice, and Steve knew she was mad. "And don't make any fucking excuses, because I don't need this bullshit, Steve, okay? Clint and me? We fucking care, and we're willing to help and we want to- because it's not burden, no matter what you think and believe. You're not a burden. Clint fucked that guy up because he deserved it, because he was not respecting you- and you couldn't defend yourself, you refused to," she takes a deep breath. "So, tell me, Steven Grant Rogers, have you been taking your medication?"

Steve looks down. 

A few moments pass before he looks back up. 

"No."

"Okay, that's okay, Steve," she eases her body. "I made you a sandwich and I put out a glass of water and your pill on the counter, please go eat and take it."

"Nat-"

"No, Steve, do what I say, because I refuse to watch you dig yourself into your fucking hole of self-pity and regret, all because you can't take some damn medication," she says, and she gets up and starts walking out. 

Nat pauses at the doorframe. 

"Steve... you, you know that I love you, right?" she asks. "And so does Clint, we both love you and we both care about you and..." she stops talking and looks at Steve intently.

"Yeah, Tasha, I know," he says softly. 

"Good," and then she turns back around. 

"I love you too," Steve practically whispers, and Nat does everything in her power to not run back to her best friend and wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. She nearly gives in, but instead. she turns around and smiles a small smile. 

***

The rest of the weekend consisted of Nat, Clint and Steve sitting on the couch and drinking hot chocolate and watching Doctor Who reruns. They did order pizza that night, but otherwise than that, they snacked on junk that was in the cupboard. 

"Dude, Daleks aren't even that scary," Clint comments, and bites into another one of his (sacred and loved) chips. 

"If you had a huge metal box with a plunger of death coming toward you, screaming bloody murder, l'm positive that you would piss your pants," Nat says, and Steve laughs quietly. 

"No, I know parkour, I would jump off of him and fight his galactic ass," Clint says, and Nat snorts. 

"YOU DON'T KNOW PARKOUR, BARTON," Steve yells, and gets a chip thrown at his head. He retaliates with a kick, and Clint yelps and shifts into a different position on the couch. 

"I do, too," he whines, and Nat laughs. 

"Falling on your face is not parkour, dumbass," Nat retorts. 

"That was one time, Natasha," Clint says. 

"It was more than one time, Barton, because Friday is still fresh in my mind," Steve says dryly. 

"And don't forget today," Nat adds, and Clint groans. 

"And last night after the movie," Steve says pointedly, and Nat nods in agreement.

"I hate you both."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three cheers for the west wing and Doctor who references!! hella rad
> 
> ok bye make sure to leave comments, kudos and bookmark to know when I update!!!!!


	12. family matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bucky is obsessively doing schoolwork; sam is pissed, and resorts to calling a very pissed family member. 
> 
> thor returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So there are some terms at the notes at the end of the chapter for anything I say (pertaining to Judaism) in this chapter. 
> 
> lol I figured I'd make Bucky Jewish because I'm Jewish and my family's from Brooklyn, just like his. I also speak fluent Hebrew so I'm making that, and Romanian, the two other languages that Buck knows, so heads up for that. So yay. enjoy! xx

Sam Wilson was just about ready to murder his best friend/roommate. Seriously. 

From Friday night until now, 2 pm on Sunday, the idiot had been sat at his desk doing work and barely eating- hell, he had even skipped their weekly Sunday breakfast, and that's when Sam decided that it was fucking enough. 

"James Buchanan Barnes, get your dumb, boring ass up, we're going out," Sam stormed into his room, where Bucky was sitting at his desk, hunched over a shitload of papers. 

"Don't call me that, you sound like my mom," Bucky comments dryly. 

"Buckkkkk, can you just sto- Bucky, could you fucking look up for a minute? Like damn, son, would it kill you to make eye contact with another human being?"

"Yes."

"Asshole, come on, we're going out-"

"No, I have shit to do," Bucky whines. 

"Come on, we can go to that place I told you about- Asgards, its so good," Sam nags, and walks over to Bucky. 

"I went, and no," Bucky replies, and Sam nudges his shoulder. 

"If you don't come out with me, I'm calling your mom and telling her that you're doing this to yourself," Sam threatens, and Bucky snorts. 

"Yeah, sure, you do that," Bucky teases, and Sam marches out of the room. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and picks up his pencil, refocusing his concentration on the work in front of him. A few minutes pass before Sam storms back in, his phone in hand and a classic "You're-fucked" smirk on his face. 

"Wha-"

Sam shoves the phone by his hear and Bucky grips it. 

"James fucking Buchanan Barnes, you dumbass," Winifred Barnes's shrill voice poured out from the phone on speaker, and Bucky cringes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hello to you, too, Mom," he ignores her question. "Nice to speak to you on this fine day."

"Don't be smart with me, honey, I'm in a mood," she retorts. 

"Hi Bucky!" Rebecca's voice calls from the background, followed by a crash. "Oops!"

"Becca! Ugh, never mind, I'll deal with that later," Bucky's mom says, and Bucky smiles. He missed his family. He looks up and sees Sam with his arms crossed with a "I told you so" look on his face and Bucky kicks him. 

"Ow!"

"James, don't you dare touch Sam. As of now, I like him better than you," Mrs. Barnes retorts, and Bucky sighs. 

"Mom, I'm doing fine, just busy with school and stuff-"

"And so that means you can just, I don't know, starve yourself? Give me a break, Bucky," she comments, and Bucky throws a dirty look at Sam, who was rubbing his leg on the spot where Bucky kicked him. 

"Mom, it's just a busy weekend, okay? Normally, I'm eating everyday and going out regularly."

"Bucky, you need to maintain a regular schedule. It's good for your mental health. Otherwise you're gonna become a zombie, or something. I don't know, I read something like that in the parenting book," she says, her voice wandering. 

"You still read those?"

"Yes, Bucky, because I am a good, responsible parent who cares about her children and would rather not hear about them slowly dying from college work."

"She forgot me at Costco two days ago!" Rebecca calls in the background, and Sam and Bucky laugh. 

"That was one time!"

"Mom, you've done that to me at least twice last summer," Bucky says, as-a-matter-of-factly. 

"Okay, that time when your aunt Ida was giving birth does not count," his mom insists, and Bucky laughs again. 

"It was a false alarm, but sure, mom," he responds, and she groans. 

"Whatever, just please eat your damn vegetables and whatever," she brushes off his comment. 

"Mom, I'm really fine, I'm doing good," Bucky insists, and smiles, thinking of Steve and their breakfast on Friday. 

"Meet any cute boys?" 

"Mom!" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you coming for Thanksgiving this year?" she asks, and he hears her fumbling with what he thinks are dishes. 

"Yeah, I am, and Hanukkah, too," he says, and Sam plops on his bed. "Not missing out on that, again."

"Grandma will be happy to see you- and you better come to shul, too. Your dad would kill you if you don't," she responds. 

"God, I don't even remember half of the stuff I learned," he says, thinking of his classes with the Rabbi of the shul, back when he was a teenager. 

"Never mind that, I'm just happy you're coming- and that you're currently not dead," she says dryly, and laughs. "I have to go clean up the mess Becca made, I'll call you later on in the week."

"'Kay, bye mom."

"Love you."

"Love you too, Ima," he says, and ends the call. Sam is staring at him from the corner of his bed, with a smug look on his face. "I hate you so much."

"You love me, now let's go get food, because you skipped out on our breakfast this morning and I am hurt because you ditched me," he says, with a fake sad face. 

"Yeah, yeah, fine, let's go get some lunch." 

***

Sam and Bucky sat across from each in Asgards, sipping their respective glasses of water. 

"Dude, no, I am not coming to your house on Christmas again," Bucky says, and Sam groans. 

"Come on! I'm coming to you for Hanukkah, the least you can do is indulge my mom and my grandma and just come for the few days," Sam nags, and Bucky sighs. 

"Fine, but Grandma Penny better make the damn eggnog."

"Dude, do you actually doubt that she will?"

"True."

"Brothers!"

Thor's booming voice made Bucky jump, and Sam sniggered at his reaction. 

"Hello, Thor, nice to see you again," Bucky says dryly. 

"Yes, very nice to see you, too, brother. It has been a while since I've seen you on your date. Now you are here with a friend," he looks at Sam. "Hello, Sam, nice to see you."

"Date?"

"It wasn't a date, Thor, it was a meeting," and Sam still looks at Bucky with a confused look on his face. "So, Thor, what do you say you take our orders?"

"Yes, I shall. What would you like?"

After ordering, Sam and Bucky busied themselves with small conversation, and Bucky realizes something- Thor had assumed that him and Steve were on a date, and when he saw him with Sam, he knew they were friends. 

"Huh," Bucky says, not realizing it was out loud. 

"What?" Sam asks, before he takes a sip of water. 

"Wha- oh, nothing," Bucky brushes off the comment, but he knew it wasn't nothing. This meant that to anyone looking at Steve and Bucky, it looked as if it was a date. And that would mean that- it meant that Steve must've looked like he was somewhat interested in Bucky. I mean, Bucky thinks, wouldn't that mean that the two people on the date look interested in each other? 

Hm. 

"Earth to Bucky," Sam waved his hand in front of Bucky's face. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was telling you about the time when Riley had turned the stove..."

Right, Bucky thought, that's what he was saying. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanukkah- a Jewish holiday commemorating the rededication of the Holy Temple (the Second Temple) in Jerusalem at the time of the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire. Hanukkah is observed for eight nights and days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December
> 
> shul- synagogue, Jewish temple of worship 
> 
> Rabbi- a Jewish scholar or teacher, especially one who studies or teaches Jewish law.
> 
> Ima- אמא (Hebrew), mother in Hebrew 
> 
> Bucky's family is originally came from Romania around WWII, and escaped persecution from Germans and went to Israel, and then went to Brooklyn, and have resided there ever since. They are observant, although they are quite modern in their thoughts and beliefs. They are a part of the Jewish group of Ashkenazim, meaning they're Jews who originated from Europe (as opposed to Sephardic, who originate from Spain- like me!). So yeah, there's the full family history. Winifred is also Jewish. 
> 
> leave comments, kudos and shit. if you have any questions about Bucky and his family history or Judaism, just ask!


	13. a first and a last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the long awaited dinner arrives, bucky and steve discover more about each other, smiles and blushing are present, and then a thing happens- yeah, a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!!!!'
> 
> this chapter took me like four hours to write and I re-read it like ten times before deciding it was ok enough to publish. enjoy ;))))

"Steve!" 

Steve turns around from where he's standing at the entrance of Brennan's, an All-American cuisine restaurant that boasted a very chill and casual atmosphere, adorned with wooden tables and comfy chairs. The lighting was low, and the people were all chatting animatedly with one another. 

Steve had been obsessively waiting for this day to come, and it was here- the yearned-for Wednesday. He woke up that morning and went to his classes, knowing fully well that that night, he would see the blue-eyed boy and sit across from him. Of course-Steve came to the conclusion- he wouldn't do anything, obviously. He wouldn't put his interest on display for James to see. Yet, he still ached for the boy to sweep him off his feet. 

Ah, Steve thought, if only.

After the weekend with Nat and Clint, and Steve starting to take his medicine, he got back on a semi-regular schedule; he went to class every day, went out with Nat or Clint for lunch or dinner, did what he had to do. He did shoot the occasional text with a winky emoji to James, but nothing beyond that. All in all, Steve was back on schedule, moving past the incident of the Friday night past. He still felt slightly ashamed, but after a long talk with Natasha, he realized that there was nothing he did that was wrong. 

Still, didn't help the feeling of guilt that he felt when he saw Clint holding on to his side where the stranger had jabbed his fist. 

Anyways, Wednesday evening. He had texted James letting him know where they'd meet, and told him to bring over the blue-print thing (or whatever it was technically) and some data that they had looked over last Friday. Steve had arrived 20 minutes earlier, you know, just in case. 

(sure, Steve, whatever floats your boat.)

"Hi, I'm sorry, we're you waiting long? I should've came earlier-"

"Oh, no, don't worry, it's a thing of mine- I like to be beyond punctual," Steve assures James, who was standing in front of him, slightly out of breath and running his hands through his hair. 

James smiles. "Damn, you like walking and being on time? I don't think we'll get along too well, Stevie."

Steve's stomach lurches at the nickname, "Too late for that, huh? Let's go inside." James smiles and lets Steve lead him inside through the wooden doors, and they seat themselves near the large window, expanding practically the whole front wall of the restaurant. 

They sit down, and James smiles at Steve, who fumbles with his bag to get out his sketchbook. 

"So."

"So."

"I have the data you asked me to bring, Steve, although I don't see the need for it."

"Oh, well, I have the finalized design for you, but I was hoping to just corroborate the data to make sure everything is accurate, you know?" Steve says, unsure what James's reaction would be. 

"You finished it? Wow, quite fast, I'm impressed," James says with a nod. 

Steve blushes. "Hah, well, when you have as much free time as I have, you find ways to get shit done."

"I can relate, I did an entire curriculum's worth of reading this past weekend, my roommate was ready to murder me."

Steve flinches, thinking of what he had done- rather, what he hadn't done- this weekend. 

"Are you okay?" James asks, concern shadowing his face. 

"Oh- uh, yeah," he shoves the sketchbook in front of James's face. "Here it is- and, uh- listen, if you don't like any of it, just tell me. I, uh, I'm willing- yeah, I'll start over, if you-"

"Jesus, Stevie, don't worry, okay? I'm sure it's great," James says with a reassuring smile, and Steve forgets that they're in a crowded restaurant and all he wants to do is grab James and kiss his stupid face. 

James flips the cover over, flips to the dog marked page, and audibly gasps. 

"You don't like it? Shit- shit, okay, I can-"

"Steve, you're incredible, holy shit," James looks up and his mouth is agape. 

The picture was a diagram, first and foremost. Everything that was needed to be indicated was, well, indicated. But beyond that, it was breathtaking in every aspect. The details were perfect, the metal and color intertwining at every given point. The stark red contrasted with the darkness of the paneling, and the panels themselves were placed impeccably- everything was in accordance to the data, but it was so much more. 

"Steve-"

"Hello, my name is Haley, I'll be your waitress tonight," a blonde looks down at the two sitting at the table. "Can I get you any drinks?"

Steve, still looking down from when James had opened the sketchbook, doesn't say anything. 

"Just- um, two waters, please," James manages to cough out. 

"Alright, I'll be back in a few to take orders!" she exclaims, and waltzes away. 

"Steve."

Steve looks up and sees James looking directly at him. 

"You're incredibly talented."

"It's- it's not my best," he insists quietly. 

"Fuck that, it's the best I've ever seen," James says with a smile, and Steve looks back down shyly. "Do you have more that I can see?"

Steve straightens up. "Uh- ye- um, people never really have seen my art, but, yeah, you can flip through the rest of the sketchbook," he explains. "It's some of my newer stuff."

James nods with a smile, and starts flipping from the beginning. The different pages ranged from basic sketches to intricately detailed drawings. One, for example, was a sketch of a hand, using only charcoal pencil. The details were impeccable, and everything looked so realistic. Another was a landscape which Steve had drawn a month or so back, when he was visiting his aunt in Brooklyn. It was, to anyone born in Brooklyn, a famous sight. 

The Brooklyn Heights Promenade drawn in the picture was vibrant with colors. Steve had taken so much time and effort on this picture, and he still wasn't done with it. The buildings were on display, shining brightly in the sun. There was a tree shedding its leaves, and a lonesome bench near the edge of the promenade, and there sat a lone figure, with their knees brought up under their chin as they looked out to the water. 

Every detail was, as always, impeccable. 

"Brooklyn?"

Steve looked up and blushed. 

"Yeah I- I was visiting my aunt back at home and we had went for a walk out on the promenade. It's funny, actually- up until that day, I had never really walked on the promenade for the sole purpose of walking," Steve said, and smiled. "Always had somewhere to be."

"You're from Brooklyn?" 

"Wh- yeah, I am, why?"

"So am I," James smiles. 

"Really?"

"Well, I was born in Shelbyville, Indiana, when my parents were traveling the country after the got married. Both my parents and my entire family, are Jewish, so my family basically all lives in Brooklyn. I may have been born in Indiana," James laughs, "but in my heart, I am a true Brooklyn boy."

"Where did you go to school?" Steve asks curiously. 

"Milford Academy for high school, you?"

"Georgian High."

"Dude, that's like not even ten minutes away from each other, they're both by Park Slope, no?" James asks. 

"Yeah, actually," Steve replies with a smile, and James looks at him with wide eyes. 

"I think my school played your school in varsity soccer," he says. 

"So, what are the odds we meet two hours away from home in our twenties, huh," Steve laughs. 

"Fate has a funny way of working its magic," James laughs, and Steve's heart thumps because what he would've given to know this kid in high school... 

***

James bites into his burger and chews, with a thoughtful look on his face. 

"So, you told me that you were skinny and small as a kid, so I assume you shot up in high school?"

Steve snorts, "Yeah, middle of junior year my doctor finally figured me out and got me the right steroids and shit. Took a lot of vitamins, and suddenly I was the focus of every girl in the school."

"Ah, so you were a player?" James wiggles his eyebrows and Steve laughs. 

"No way, I was never into that- still, it was definitely great on my self esteem," he says thoughtfully. "I was asked to try out for the soccer team, but I refused. I was an art nerd from the start, I wouldn't change who I was along with the rest of my body."

"That's cute," James smirks, and takes another bite. 

"Eh, not really. Got made fun of a lot when I started middle school and high school, and even though most people became scared of me, I heard what they said about me behind their backs."

"It's funny, you know," James comments. 

"What's funny?"

"You're a pretty confident guy, Steve, yet when it comes to your art, you become this little kid- you're almost too scared, because you think you've done something wrong," James says nonchalantly. 

Steve pauses, and bites into his burger.

"I mean, you're incredible, man. I've never seen anything like what you do, yet you shut down every compliment," he continues. "And then you flirt with me and I get flustered."

Steve turns red, because James had realized it was flirting and he realized that he wasn't being so subtle (although Steve couldn't have been that stupid, could he?)

"I'm sorry, I'm probably overstepping some boundaries. Just forget I sai-"

"You're right," Steve admits, and James's small smile falters. "It's actually... it's a long story."

"I like long stories," James says and the smile returns to his face. 

"Well-"

"Hi boys, is everything alright?" 

Haley is standing over them, yet again, looking at them with a big smile. Little shit knows what she's doing, Steve thinks. 

"Yes, Haley," James says with an exaggerated pronunciation of her name. "Everything is absolutely, positively fantastic."

"Great! Well, holler at me if you need anything," she says, ignoring James's obvious exasperation. 

"Oh yes, we sure will, Haley," James says and gives her a sarcastic thumbs up. If Haley notices, she doesn't say anything, and waltzes away. 

"Remind me to shoot her when she comes back," James grumbles. 

Steve laughs, "Aw, why you upset, Jamesy?"

James grumbles again, "You know why, Steve."

Steve laughs again and takes another bite of the burger. "So, you excited to construct the arm, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," James says, and gives Steve a small smile. "Guess I don't really need your help anymore, Stevie."

Steve's smile falters, because he hadn't realized that technically... they didn't even have to meet up again. 

"Yeah, I guess so, James," he replies, not knowing what to say. He takes a sip of his water. 

"Um, tha-thank you, for everything you've done," James says, looking down. "I don't know what I would've done without your help, Steve."

"Sure you would've managed just fine, James," Steve is also looking down when he says this, and they both look back up at the same time. "Let me- let me know if you, um, ever need any help with anything, I would be more than happy to help."

"Y-yeah, thank you."

The rest of dinner went on with small talk, yet Steve couldn't help but notice that James kept looking down, not really looking at Steve the way he normally does. 

On the way out from the restaurant, they exchange awkward goodbyes, and Steve goes in for a hug and James just squeezes back before giving a small smile and walking away. 

Steve was alone, watching as James slowly walked the other way. He turned around and began thinking. 

It was odd, he thought, that I rushed it they way I did. He was referring to the diagram he made and the actual drawing. Steve hadn't realized that when he finished it, he was going to give it to James and then that was it. Damn, if he had known it would end like this, he would've waited until he was 94 damn years old to finish it. Then James would be a little late on the due date, but it didn't matter- as long as Steve got to see him. 

As Steve continued walking, he was looking down at the sidewalk and kicking any available pile of leaves he saw. He wasn't upset, so to speak, but rather just... disappointed. 

Footsteps bounced off the pavement of the sidewalk, but Steve didn't turn around, still deep in thought. It was only when he felt a tap on his shoulder did he turn around. And there James was, standing as he slightly panted and looked at Steve. 

"James, what are-"

James grabbed his coat collar and pulled him in, and planted his lips on his. It wasn't a long kiss, wasn't particularly wet or heated. Rather, it was short and sweet.

Steve melted into his touch, inhaling lightly and kisses back. All he smelled was James, all he felt was James, all he wanted was James. 

James pulled back, and looked at Steve directly in the eyes. 

"Thank you, Stevie."

He smiled and turned away, walking in the other direction with his hands in his jean pockets. Steve didn't move, didn't say anything back, and just watched as James walked away. 

What the hell, Steve thought, what the actual fuck. 

***

Back in his apartment, Bucky plopped on his bed and looked up at the ceiling, with a big smile plastered on his face. 

He didn't know whether Steve would text him or call him ever, let alone whether Steve liked the kiss. But when he was walking away from Steve at the restaurant, he just knew- he felt- that their goodbye wasn't enough. And dammit, if he wasn't going to ever meet up with the guy again, he sure as hell was going to kiss him at least once. 

Steve kissed back, though. He expressed some form of interest, Bucky thought, and he didn't deny that he had been flirting with me when I mentioned it. But, what else could he do, huh readers? All he could do was run back and find the guy and grab him and kiss him. 

Bucky didn't know what to do with himself. 

***

Steve walked into his apartment and found Clint (as per usual) on the couch eating and watching television. 

"Hey, loser, I found this new thing at the store today and I can't stop eating it," Clint says, and jumps up and walks to Steve, thrusting a bag of PopChips in his face. "Dude, I might have to go to PopChips rehab soon. I've eaten five bags since you left."

"It's truly a wonder how you aren't obese, man," Steve says, but he looks like he's in another world. 

"What the fuck is up with you, you look like you've seen a damn ghost or some shit," Clint comments, and plops himself at the table as Steve thrusts off his coat. 

"Nothing, I'm fine," he says. 

"Well, your face is all red and rosy and shit, and it's not even that cold outside, so-"

"It's nothing, Clint, don't worry about it," he replies, and Clint gives him an odd look. "Seriously man, you're so fucking weird."

"Oh, sorry, just slightly concerned for my best friend," Clint says with an eye roll, and Steve snaps. 

"Clint, could you and Natasha possibly stop fucking looking at me as if I'm gonna fucking break? I'm not a little kid, 'm not gonna break," he half-shouts. 

"Jesus, I just asked a question, I'm sorry-"

"Barton, get your head out of your ass, I'm fine and you don't have to worry," he ends his rant with a tone of finality. "Now pass the damn bag of PopChips, otherwise you're gonna end up demolishing the market's entire supply of that shit."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the schools are made up, although loosely based on two schools near Park Slope. The Promenade is beautiful, I suggest if you're ever in Brooklyn to go hit it up (along with Park Slope, it's the bomb).   
> Clint's obsession with PopChips is lowkey based off of me because those chips are fucking addictive as hell.   
> anyways, hope you enjoyed, this is only the beginning of Steve and Bucky. just wait ;)
> 
> ps: yes I lowkey wanted to shoot myself while writing up Haley because liTERALLY SHE RUINS EVERYTHING. but yeah, dw guys, it's all good in da hood.


	14. the plan actually gets planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nat brings up the plan. the plan begins to actually, you know, get planned. 
> 
> (cue the banter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoyyyyy ;)
> 
> UPDATE: for some reason, the banter involving Clint's hearing aid is all pushed into one paragraph- forgive me, for it isn't meant to be that way. for some reason, it won't let me update the format for that one section, so I guess I'll leave it that way until I figure out another way to fix it. 
> 
> also, leave comments telling me what u think! or any reactions or confusion. :)

"Clint, do you remember my genius plan?" Natasha asks her friend, who is sitting across from her ask they eat lunch at Asgards. 

"What, the so-called plan where you literally tie Bucky and Steve together on a chair and refuse to let them go until they fall in love?" Clint answers sarcastically. "Why yes, Natasha, I remember it."

"Asshole," she mutters with a scowl. "You exaggerated it a little bit, Barton, but yes, that's the one I am talking about."

"What about it?" he asks, taking a bite of his deli sandwich. 

"Well, I think we should actually go on with it," she explains, and takes a sip of her coffee (black with a spoonful of sugar, because "milk is for wimps, Barton, get over it.") 

"Nat, we can't just push them together and just-"

"Come on, it's not that hard- we just tell Sam to meet up with us and Steve, and tell him to bring Bucky," she insists. 

Clint pauses to think. "I assume you'll be the one who'll get Cap out of the damn apartment. He's been moping around ever since he came home a few nights ago, I have no idea why."

"Because he's Steve, that's why, dumbass," Nat retorts, and Clint kicks her under the table. "But sure, he won't say no to me this time, he's too scared."

Clint snorts, "You ever think of being nice to someone and not scaring the living shit out of them, instead?"

"Nah," Nat smirks. "It turns me on," she purrs and winks, and Clint turns red. He swallows his food and takes a sip of his Diet Coke ("Barton, it doesn't make a difference whether it's diet or not, you're still a fatass," Nat had said, and Clint gave her the middle finger.) 

"Anyways, why are you so obsessed with getting them two together?"

"Well," she starts, "for one thing, Steve hasn't been in a proper relationship since Peggy, and we all know how that worked out." Clint rolls his eyes, thinking back to the nights where Steve had sat alone in his bed and cried and ate cookie dough ice cream like a teenage girl after her first break up. 

"I think Bucky would be a good thing for Steve, especially getting back in the dating game and all," she continues. "Second of all, they would literally make the hottest couple ever, like seriously."

Clint doesn't finish chewing before he speaks. "Hey, what about us?"

"Ugh gross, Barton," she shoves his shoulder in disgust at his talking with his mouth full. "You'll never actually have a chance with me if you keep that up."

"So you're saying I have a chance with you?" Clint asks with a sly smirk. 

"Fuck off."

***

Clint, Nat and Steve sat at Nat's table in her apartment, downing the Chinese takeout they had ordered just thirty minutes before. 

"Your guys' friendship is unhealthy," a voice quips from the side of the room. Pepper Potts marches over to the table, where Steve and Clint were flinging noodles at each other and Nat was watching, pretending to completely unamused but secretly smiling. 

Clint looks up at Pepper, "In what way? The way we're together at every waking moment or the way we eat takeout for every given meal possible?"

"Yes," Pepper answers, and Steve and Nat chuckle. 

"Well, babe, the first step to recovery is acknowledging that you have a problem," Clint says with a wink, and Pepper scoffs. 

"Whatever," she says, and crosses her arms. 

"Speaking of greasy takeout, how is that lovely boyfriend of yours? Tony treating you well?" Clint asks with a fake smile. 

"Cut it out, Barton," Nat cuts in, but Pepper ignored her comment. 

"For your information, Tony and I are great, Clint. We truly have a wonderful relationship," she says. "It's a shame you'll never be able to experience one yourself."

And with that, Pepper smiles sweetly and waltzes out the door, closing it lightly behind her. 

"What the fuck?" Clint says, incredulous, and Nat and Steve snigger. 

"Dude, she fucking killed you," Steve laughs, and Clint gives him the middle finger. Steve throws a noodle at Clint's face. "Hey! Watch the hearing aid, dumbass," Clint exclaims, wiping his face and throwing Steve a dirty look. "What the fuck can a noodle do to a hearing aid?" "Hey, I'm the deaf one, you don't get to say what the noodle does and doesn't do," Clint insists. "You're not deaf, you're hard of hearing, Barton," Nat says dryly, and Steve laughs. 

"Whatever man, relationships are overrated," Clint retorts, switching back to the original topic, and takes a bite of noodles. 

"Speaking of, we have plans tomorrow night," Nat chimes in. "Us three and Sam and Bucky at this bar out of town that Sam has been raving about."

Steve rolls his eyes, "When are you gonna give up on that?"

"On what?" Nat asks. 

"Trying to set me and this Bucky kid up, it's not worth it, I'm too busy," Steve insists. Clint and Nat look at each, and snigger. 

"Bitch, you have been sitting around the apartment doing absolutely nothing," Clint says in between laughs. "'Busy' my fat ass."

"Besides," Nat adds. "It won't be anything fancy, just the few of us getting drinks." 

Steve groans. "I would rather make out with Pepper than go out with you morons tomorrow night."

Clint makes a face of disgust, and Nat says, "You know, I can arrange that. All I gotta do is make that girl some martinis and she's down for anything, the damn lightweight."

Steve flings a noodle at Nat, and then sighs dramatically. "Fine, I guess I'll cancel my plans with my bed tomorrow night. Whatever." He gets up and starts talking to the kitchen to get more water, and Nat turns to Clint and gives him a devilish smile, which Clint returns with an eye roll. 

The plan was beginning to work its magic. 

***

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pleaaaaaase?"

"No!"

"I'm gonna call Winnie up and tell her the shit you've been trying to pull on me with this," Sam threatens, as he starts dialing what Bucky realizes is his mom's phone number. 

"Number one, why the fuck do you have my mom's number memorized, you weirdo?" Bucky asks. 

"We exchange recipes," Sam shrugs. 

"You don't cook, dumbass."

"Okay, so we talk sometimes," Sam shrugs again. 

"About what?!" Bucky asks with a look of confusion on his face. 

"Mostly about your dumb ass, but we both watch the Bachelor, and we have our weekly catch-up sesh," he says, as if it's obvious. 

"Okay, and I'm the gay one," Bucky retorts, and Sam flicks his forehead. "Don't call my mother, weirdo, I'll come with you."

"Okay, good, dumbass," Sam smiles, and texts Natasha that he and Bucky are in for the next night's plans.

"Are you gonna tell me what Clint's so-called roommate's name is?" Bucky asks out of curiosity. 

"No."

"Why nottttt?" Bucky nags. 

"Because then you'll go on a stalking spree on Instagram and Twitter and then freak him out by asking about some trip he took five years ago, weirdo," Sam complains. 

"It was one time!"

"Weirdo."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for writing pepper and clint banter ok it's my fave ever. 
> 
> also I am nat in every aspect except physical (I'm 5'0, tiny af, and a skinny little shit). but hey, I also live vicariously thru borky and steeb. 
> 
> also I do plan on introducing Tony formally, so keep your eyes open for that :)
> 
> new chapter coming up soon! if anyone actually regularly reads this or just reads this, please comment and let me know what u guys think so far, I'm so curious (and lowkey thirsty) so yeah :))) 
> 
> my name is mayla btw lol 
> 
> ok bye fam


	15. grandpas and t-shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> saturday morning for steve. 
> 
> saturday late afternoon for bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! leave comments and thoughts!! 
> 
> the awaited encounter comes soon :)

Steve woke up the next day, Saturday, with a small headache. He ignored it as he bent over the bed to feel under it for his phone, which he had dropped last night but was too lazy to bend down and get. He felt around and found it and brought it up to his face as he turned the screen on. 

ONE NEW MESSAGE, his phone flashed. 

Steve's stomach lurched forward, and he silently prayed it was James but quickly dismissed the thought, not wanting to get his hopes up. 

You see, our dear Stevie had been dragging himself around, moping and moaning about the other night- the special night, you know what I'm talking about- and silently whining because all he wanted to do was talking to James. But no, Steve refuses to text him, believing that somehow James would get the message telepathically, or whatever. 

Clearly, Steve knew that this would not work. 

He knew that unless he texted James or said something in some communicative way, he wouldn't get anything out of him. After all, James had been the one who had the balls to run after Steve and kiss him, therefore the least Steve could do was actually initiate a conversation. 

But we all know that ain't happening. 

So Steve brought his phone screen up to his face and saw one message, and when he slid to open it, it was a message from Nat. 

nat aka black widow: hey loser tell clint to pick up his damn phone and call me back

Steve's stomach dropped because it wasn't James, but he picked himself up and dragged himself to Clint's door and banged his fist multiple times. 

"Hey asshole, pick up your fucking phone and call Nat!" Steve yelled, and continued pounding on the door. 

"Mnngnfffg," was all Steve heard, so he turned the door nob and let himself in, only to find Clint with his blanket and his body face first on the floor near his bed. 

"Dude, did you try doing parkour to get out of your bed or some shit?"

"Shut up, I fell while I was asleep, asshole" Clint says, and pushes himself back up, groaning. Steve rolls his eyes and leans against the doorpost. 

"Any chance I can talk you out of making me go tonight?" he asks, hopeful. Clint gets up and walks toward the door. 

"Nope, not a chance in hell," he retorts, and walks past Steve and into the kitchen, and plops down on the counter. "That is, unless you wanna piss of Nat. And I highly doubt you wanna do that, fam."

Steve turns around, still standing at the door frame. "Fam?"

"It's a new thing people say, Grandpa. Its like you've never spoken to anyone under the age of fifty, I swear," Clint remarks and rolls his eyes. 

"It's not my fault all you do is sit around and eat chips. See, I get things done," Steve says as-a-matter-of-factly as he walks toward the kitchen. "And besides, you're the grandpa, Mr. I-turn-off-my-hearing-aids-when-I'm-in-a-mood."

"You were being a fucking loser, and you were annoying," Clint explains. "I had to turn my ears off or else I'd end up shooting someone-most probably you."

"That's besides the point, Barton. Now make me grilled cheese, I'm hungry," Steve jokingly demands, and Clint flicks him. "Ow!"

"It's cute how you think you can demand things from me," Clint comments. 

"If it was Nat, you'd build her a fucking house made of grilled cheese," Steve whines. 

"Okay, and? What's your point?" 

"You like her better than me."

"Once again, what's your point?" Clint says seriously. "Awwww, is Captain jealous?"

"Yes."

"That's cute."

"I hate you."

"You love me, asshole."

Steve stomps into the kitchen and swings the fridge door open. "I'm making a sandwich for myself, and you can't have any because you're making me go tonight."

"Speaking of," Clint perks up, "What are you wearing tonight?"

Steve turns around from looking into the fridge and looks at Clint. "Um, why?"

"Just curious," Clint says with a light smile. 

"I don't know what I'm wearing yet, why does it matter?" Steve says with a suspicious look on his face. 

"No reason," Clint says, and winks at Steve and walks back into his room. 

"Weirdo," Steve mutters, and slams the fridge door. 

***

"SAM!"

Sam's footsteps were heard from down the hall, pattering down on the floor quickly only to show up at Bucky's door frame with a frantic look in his eyes. 

"WhAT IS IT? ARE YOU DYING?"

"Sam what the fuck, man," Bucky was wheezing from laughing at Sam's appearance, mid-brushing his teeth and with his jeans hanging off the leg where he had put one hole of the pants on. "I just had a question."

"Your dumb ass had a question," Sam says, panting, "so you decide to scream bloody murder?"

"Sounds about right," Bucky says with a chuckle. "I need help with what to wear tonight," he holds up a white t-shirt and a navy blue one. "Which one looks better with jeans?"

Sam had walked back to the bathroom to finish brushing up. "Depends on the jeans you're wearing," he calls from inside. 

"The ones that make my ass look good," Bucky says, and tosses the two shirts on his bed. 

"The Kardashian ones?"

"Yes, obviously."

"The white shirt, then," Sam says, and Bucky laughs. 

"Okay. What are you wearing?"

"Dude, I don't know, and I really don't care. All clothes look the same to me," Sam says as he walks back to Bucky's room. He's leaning against the door frame and he's smirking at Bucky. 

"You dressing up for the roommate?"

"No, I'm not," Bucky replies, and it's the truth, because Bucky wasn't trying to look good for this stranger (or so he thought, right readers?) Essentially, he was ridiculously terrified of potentially seeing Steve in public. That was the honest truth. 

Bucky had, in the back of his mind, this small thought, this idea, that maybe-just maybe- he'd see Steve tonight. The bar they were going to was rather popular among students at the school, and Sam claimed that everyone would be there tonight- after all, "it's Saturday night, Buck, normal people go out on the weekends, unlike you," Sam had said. 

So yeah, Bucky had himself convinced that he could potentially see Steve tonight, and therefore he had to dress nicely and he had to actually care what he looked like. 

Obviously, he could've just texted the other boy- after all, he'd been the one to kiss him first. But, Bucky was scared, and was hoping Steve would text him first or initiate the further step. So he waited, and he dressed extra nice for tonight, because maybe he would see Steve. 

If not, Bucky thought, maybe I could hit up that roommate of Clint's? 

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hear ur groans, people, and I can confirm that steeb and borky will be meeting officially, next chapter. 
> 
> :)))
> 
> ALSO: so I have this idea of what Steve and buck look like in this fic, so I have links for exactly what I have in mind. 
> 
> BUCKY: http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/sebastian-stan/images/10487294/title/sebastian-photo/b/10487294 except with blond in his hair 
> 
> STEVE: http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/avengers-cast-breakout-roles-gallery-1.2136281?pmSlide=1.2136270 except a lil more beefy like him as cap lmao


	16. and now, we begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the moment where things start to make sense

"Do I haaaaave to?"

"Yes, Steve, now quit whining like a baby and let's get inside already," Clint insisted. "It's cold as shit out here," he looked up to the sky impatiently. 

"But why do I have to go with you guys, I would much rather be home," Steve complained, and Clint rolled his eyes and pushed Steve forward and through the door of the bar. 

SHEILD, the new bar in town, was devastatingly hipster in every aspect of itself. The lights were dimmed down, and the only source of light was the string Christmas lights that were bright red, hanging on every edge. The bar itself was crowded, with all the seats taken up and people crowding behind them to get drinks. It had a homeliness to it, with its wooden floors and its worn-out brown leather couches (which was odd, Steve thought, because this place is new). 

Steve looked around and quickly spotted Nat sitting at a table, with her red hair flowing down her shoulders. She was standing next to a tall, dark-skinned man, who Steve recognized as Sam. Clint grabbed Steve by his shoulder and dragged him over to where the two were sitting. 

"Steve, you came," Nat says with a surprised look on her face. "Hey, Barton."

The two muttered hello back. Steve shrugged off his jacket and put it on the back of the chair he claimed, and Clint plopped down. Sam got up to greet Steve, who hugged him shyly and then quickly retreated into his chair. 

"So, where's Bucky?" Clint asks. 

"He went to the bathroom and then he's getting drinks for the table," Sam explained, and then turned to Nat to continue the conversation they were having before the others had came. 

"Speaking of the bathroom, I gotta pee," Steve said, and quickly got up to navigate himself to the "bathroom." Clint, Nat and Sam didn't react to his exit, so Steve practically sprinted through the crowds of people and went to where the bathrooms were. He followed a hallway, which was alarmingly empty, and stopped a few feet in to lean against the wall and breathe. 

C'mon Steve, he told himself, just breathe and get this over with. 

He really didn't want to be there tonight, because of the last Friday's events. He knew it wouldn't be like that tonight, but his anxiety levels were through the damn roof, and he couldn't help it. 

Steve stood leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and his eyes squeezed shut. His thoughts were discursive, weaving in and out of different subjects and worries. It only took two minutes for him to start pacing back and forth. 

Steve truly was the epitome of anxiety at this point, and he was walking back and forth with his hands shaking and his legs wobbly. It was another few minutes until he bumped smack into another body. 

"Shit, fuck," Steve muttered, and he found himself on his butt on the floor. He looked up to see the culprit when-

"Steve?"

It was James, hovering over him with a slightly-dazed look on his face. James held his hand out for Steve, who held a firm grip and let James pull him up. Fixing himself up, he looked up and that's when he really saw James. 

Shit, he looked good, like... really fucking good. 

And then Steve's mind was racing because of course it was his luck to run into-literally- the guy who had kissed him and the guy who he hadn't texted after. Of course it was his luck to run into the idiot he had been pining for, for the last few weeks of his life. Of fucking course. 

But, James looked really good, okay, and he couldn't help but give him a once-over. His jeans hugged his hips snuggly- God, they were obscenely tight and Steve couldn't even think straight (ha). He sported a fitted white t-shirt, which curved around his shoulders and biceps so nicely and-

"Are you alright?"

Steve looks up to find James looking directly at his face, with worried eyes. 

"Ye-," Steve coughed. "Yeah, I'm- I'm fine, thanks James."

"Oh, Steve, there you are, you've been gone for- oh, hey Bucky!" 

Steve froze. 

He turned around to see Nat standing at end of the hallway, her head cocked and her hands sat firmly on her hips. 

"Bucky?" Steve asked, and turned around to face James. Nat's footsteps were coming closer until she had her arm looped around Steve's waist. 

"I see you've met Bucky, finally," Nat says with a smile, and Bucky is looking back and forth from Nat to Steve. "No need for a formal introduction now."

"Um," is all James says. 

"Nat, this is James," Steve says with a confused look on his face. 

"Wait," James puts his hand up, "wait, wait, wait."

"What the hell," Nat is looking at the both of them. 

"Steve, how do you know Nat?" James asks. 

"She's my best friend?"

"He's the roommate we were telling you about," Nat explains, as if it clarifies the whole thing. "'Kay, clearly you two have shit going on, so I'm gonna go back to the table." She untangles herself from Steve's waist and puts her hands in her pockets. "I'll see you two in a few, then," she smiles sweetly and waltzes away. 

Steve and Ja- Bucky(?) are standing alone in the hallway. 

"You're Bucky?" Steve asks, incredulous and confused, and James gives a sheepish smile. 

"Yeah, it's- it's my nickname from when I was a kid," Jame- Bucky(!) explains. "Wait, so you're Clint's roommate?"

"Yeah, he's my best friend," Steve explains, but his face is permanently stuck with a smile at this point. 

"Wait-" 

"Can we-"

They had both started speaking at the same time, and laughed. 

"Me first," Bucky blushes and shoves his hands down his pockets. "I'm-I'm sorry about the other night, I shouldn't have just kissed you when- well, if I had known that you and Natasha were dating, I wouldn't have-"

Steve snorts. 

"I wouldn't have," Bucky continues but then realizes Steve is laughing, "what?"

"You think- you think Nat and I are dating?" Steve is visibly more comfortable at this point. 

"Well, yeah, I mean- you- she, she had her arm around you," he says quickly. "And it would explain why you didn't text me after that night," Bucky mumbles, embarrassed. 

Steve looks up at the ceiling, not fully comprehending what was happening at this point. "I'm sorry but- but this is all so fucking-"

"Confusing?" and Steve nods and Bucky's voice. "Yeah, I know, I'm kind of-"

"Can we get out of here?" Steve says, and Bucky blinks at his words. "No- not in, not in that way. I mean, unless you-"

"Yes, I really don't wanna be here tonight man," Bucky gives a relieved smile, and Steve's heart nearly jumps out of his chest because that's James- JAMES- he was looking at, and apparently he is Bucky, too, and everything is so confusing but it was James. 

It's James, and everything would work out, Steve told himself. 

***

The air was crisp at this time of the night, the wind blowing harshly against Bucky's body. Next to him was Steve- Steve, the one who he had kissed the other night, Steve, the amazing artist, Steve, the boy with the beautiful smile and the cute hair and, ugh, Steve. 

Not only was it Steve, but it was the roommate- the mystery, the stranger. For these last few weeks it was all he ever heard about and thought about- well, when he wasn't thinking about Steve and school. It was Clint and Nat's friend, the one who they loved but never named in front of him- now that Bucky thought about it, it was weird that they did that. 

But, God, talk about coincidences. This couldn't be real, Bucky thought, because this was just so... so, I don't know, he continued. 

Did Steve know all along? Better yet-

"Steve, did you know all along? That I was- I mean, who I was?"

Steve turned his head to look at Bucky, who was standing there rubbing his hands together to keep warm. 

"No, not at all," Steve said, and smiled a little. "I can't help but think that maybe the rest of them did, though."

"What do you think they're getting at?" Bucky asks, knowing fully well what they were getting at. 

"I don't know," Steve replies with a shrug. "If I'm being honest, I didn't want to come tonight because of you, Bucky. With what happened the other night..." he voice trailed off. 

Bucky looks down, avoiding Steve's face. 

"Listen, I don't- I don't even know why, but I have these, these crazy," Steve pauses and groans. "I have feelings for you even though I barely know who you are and I've only ever went on three- well, dates, I guess- with you and-"

"Steve-"

"No, let me finish," Steve smiles and puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I owe you an apology. I was a dick to you-"

"No, you weren't, it was all my fault-"

"Ja- Bucky, sorry-" and Bucky smiles because Steve was blushing and it was adorable. "I should've called you, I should've said something. I shouldn't have left you hanging. I'm a dumbass for not running after you when you kissed me."

Bucky blushes and scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

"Just- let me, let me make it up to you," Steve insists, putting both his hands on Bucky's shoulders now. "I'll take you out on a date- a real date, no data sheets and sketch pads," Bucky chuckles at this. "I mean- that is, if you're still interested, because I know- I fucked up, and-"

Bucky leans forward and shuts Steve up with a kiss again, and this time, Steve kisses back fervently, holding onto Bucky's coat jacket (haphazardly put on as he and Steve had raced past the table to grab their coats and mutter quick goodbyes) for dear life. 

Bucky kisses him sweetly, not pushing him or forcing him to do anything. Steve's lips are sweet, his skin warm and God, all Bucky wanted to do was wrap his arms around the idiot and never let him go. 

Steve let's go of his coat and brings one hand up to Bucky's cheek and jaw, coaxing him forward. The other hand was light on Bucky's hip, and Bucky felt goosebumps from the physical touch, he felt everything all at once and all he wanted was Steve. 

Steve pulls back slowly, rubbing his thumb along Bucky's jaw. Bucky looks up and smiles, and Steve smiles back and all they do is smile until Bucky busts out laughing. 

"What, why are you laughing-" Bucky had his head on Steve's shoulder, and he was shaking from laughter. 

"Because-" Bucky laughs again, and takes a deep breathe, "because this shit would only happen to our dumb asses," he explains, and chuckles. Steve blinks, looks at Bucky for a moment, and sniggers. 

The two idiots stood there laughing in the middle of the street, completely unaware of anything going on around them, in their own little world. At last, everything started to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter and the next chapter are going to sound very final, and very "complete" in a sense, but I still have so much to write and there was no other way to phrase this part of the story. but I promise, mark my words, THERE IS A LOT MORE COMING UP FOR THESE TWO. 
> 
> anyways, let me know what u thought of this? I'm curious what u thought it would be like and what u think of it now. :) leave comments and kudos and stuff.


	17. paridoxical feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two of the reveal, where the friends laugh at their friends' stupidity.

"So wait, explain this to me again, so I can understand fully," Sam insists, a smirk on his mouth. 

"We have known each other for two weeks now," Bucky starts. 

"I knew Bucky as James, Bucky knew me as Steve- no relation to any roommate of Clint," Steve sniggers, and Nat rolls her eyes. "I had been helping him with a project of his, and he helped me finish a project of mine, essentially that's it."

Nat and Sam look at each other and back at the two of them, and Clint's just sitting there. "Of course this only happens to you idiots."

"That's what I said!" Bucky exclaims, and the whole group bursts out laughing. In the midst of the laughing, Bucky leans over and whispers in Steve's ear. "So, Stevie, what's the plan for the big date?"

Steve laughs, ignoring the shiver that goes down his spine when Bucky's warm breath in near is neck- ignoring the want, the desire. At this point, Nat, Clint and Sam are talking animatedly about some sniper shit, and it's just Bucky and Steve in their world. 

"I'm not telling you, it's a surprise, Bucky," he explains, and Bucky pouts. 

Steve watched as Bucky smiles and turns to Nat to ask her a question. He takes a moment to sit there and just, think. 

Because what the fuck had happened. 

This was all- it was all, so, ugh, he didn't know. It was weird and exciting and fast and slow and scary at the same time. And it made no sense but it made so much sense all at once. It was happening so fast, one minute he would never speak to James again, the next, Bucky is kissing him and they have a date? 

Damn, it was all too fast, but it was a good kind of fast, Steve insists. He's doing everything in his power to push down the slight fear and anxiety that he felt, because this was worth the fight. 

Bucky was worth the fight. 

And he didn't know what they were- friends, not friends, dating- but he knew that he would do whatever it took to prove to Bucky that he wanted it. 

God, it was all so fast, these feelings.

So fast, Steve thought as he looked at Bucky, but so good. He leans over and rests his head on Bucky's shoulder, unsure but sure at the same time. 

He looks up from Bucky's shoulder and saw Clint looking at him, and he smiled after Clint winks. 

"Hey, Bucky," Clint says, "you know, Steve's been moping around for the last few days because of you," he says with a devilish smile. 

"Clint!"

"Think I heard him in the shower singing Whitney Houston," Clint says, and the table laughs as Steve hides his face in his hands from embarrassment. 

"Barton, I'll get you back for this."

"Mhm, sure you will."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more coming up soon :) lmk what u guys thought of this, I know it sounds final and everything but I feel like it should, because it's the end of that part of the story, and now we're moving on to new parts. 
> 
> anyways, this chapter was a follow up chapter, short and sweet compared to the last, but still very cute. 
> 
> but yeah, more coming soon :)


	18. "scandalous" pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next morning, and a brief summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! :D

Bucky was on his stomach, sprawled across his bed when Sunday morning came around. 

It had only been about five hours since the night had really ended, and the group had gone their separate ways- Sam and Bucky one way, and the other three the opposite way. They had managed to sit at the bar and talk for four hours until Nat noticed Clint practically sleeping in his beer. 

Now, it was eight in the morning, and Sam was up, bright and early. He managed a regular routine of waking up at the same time no matter what happened the night before, and last night was no different. He would brush his teeth, change into his running clothes and go for an hour run around the campus. He'd come back, shower, and sit at the table to drink his coffee and read from whatever material had stolen his attention that day. 

When Sam had finished reading and drinking his coffee, he sat back in his chair and stretched, looking at his watch for the time. It was almost ten at this point, and his roommate was still in his room with the door shut and no noise coming out. 

Odd, Sam thought, Buck usually was out to eat breakfast with me around this time. 

So Sam got up from his seat and marched over to Bucky's door and knocked on his door. He waited a moment, but no answer. He knocked again, a little louder, and then waited a few moments- to no avail. There was no answer. Sam sighed, annoyed at his roommate for not waking up to eat breakfast with him. But he knew that Bucky never slept in, always working, never letting himself indulge. 

And between last night and this morning, Sam was more than happy to let this become a habit of Bucky's, especially if it meant that smile on his face when they exchanged good nights at their bedroom doors. Sam would give anything to have his best friend happy like that, and he would let his best friend sleep in this morning. 

***

"Get your butt up, Rogers."

Steve ignored the voice (which sounded suspiciously like Clint, the little shit) and turned to the other side of the bed, shifting his body to face the wall. 

"Come on, Captain, you've been slacking," Clint pokes his back. "You haven't been to the gym in months and it's time that we change that."

Steve groans. "Barton, you haven't been to the gym either."

"That's not the point- the point," Clint plops on Steve's bed and sprawls across Steve, "is that now you have a boyfriend, you gotta maintain that bod of yours."

Steve squirms under Clint's body weight, groaning as he tried to push him off. "He's not my boyfriend, Clint, so- UGH, get off me you moron."

Clint cackles and wraps himself tighter around Steve, who responds with a rather lady-like squeal. "You fucker, get off!"

Clint tuts and sighs, and then lifts himself off of Steve and stands back up. "What time is it?"

"Ten thirty, so get up, Captain!" Clint exclaims, and Steve groans loudly and throws a pillow at his head, and Clint cackles as scrolls through his phone and taps on something with an evil smile. 

"What are you doing?" Steve jumps up at the sight of Clint's smile. 

"Nothing."

"Clint, tell me what- Clint!" 

The parkour-driven roommate jolts out of the room and his footsteps echo through the hallway. Steve sighs and chases after his roommate, who he finds-ten seconds later- had climbed on top of the fridge in the kitchen. 

"How the fuck did you get up there?" Steve asks with disbelief. 

"I get bored when you're not home," Clint says nonchalantly, as if it explains everything (which, knowing Clint, it kind of does). 

"But how ar- Barton, what did you just do on your phone?" 

"I took this picture of you," Clint bends down over Steve and flashes his screen in his face. The picture had captured Steve with a grumpy-looking face on, his body completely uncovered with the exception of his boxers. He was sprawled in the picture, mid-talking to Clint and exasperated. 

"Delete it!" Steve tried jumping to grab the phone but failed, despite his height and body strength. "Don't you do anything with-"

"I'm gonna send it to Bucky unless you come to the gym with me," Clint taunts, and laughs when a look of pure horror takes over Steve's face. 

"You wouldn't dare, I swear to go-"

"You're coming to the gym with me, then," and Steve grumbles in agreement. Clint hops down from the fridge, "Change into your gym shit, we're leaving in two minutes."

After Steve changes and brushes his teeth, he saunters out of his room and Clint is standing against the wall across from him, smirking. "Ready?"

"Asshole."

"Okay, good," Clint says cheerfully, and they both start walking out the front door. Once they reach the end of the staircase and the exit to their complex, Clint snorts. 

"You actually believed me when I said I wouldn't send it?"

Steve turns to him and tackles him, yelling incoherently as Clint attempts to defend himself and his beautiful hair (his words, not mine). 

***

Bucky stomps out of his room, wearing boxers and a white t-shirt (pretty sure it was the one from last night, and Bucky didn't care because he could still smell Steve on it and he smiled goofily as he sat down at the kitchen table).

"Morning."

Sam was sitting across from him, sipping his coffee with a look on his face (think Skai Jackson, all sassy up in this bitch, you feel?) Bucky grumbles something back, and grabs the coffee pot that Sam had brewed fresh for him a few minutes before. He pours coffee in a mug and sighs. 

"So," Sam starts, "Steve, huh?"

Bucky looks up at him and rolls his eyes and chuckles. 

"Why didn't you tell me about him before?"

Bucky sighs again. "That time you barged and tried to duel to death for my phone when you saw me smiling at the screen-"

"So that was sexting!"

"God! No, Sammy, it wasn't," Bucky rubs his face in annoyance. "I just didn't want any drama or excitement, 'specially since up until yesterday, I didn't even know he was interested."

"Of course he was interested, have you seen yo' ass in those jeans, Buck?" Bucky snorts and sips from his coffee. "You could've told me," Sam says with a small smile, and Bucky feels bad because he could've told his best friend, but he didn't.

"I'm sorry, you're right man-" Bucky was interrupted by a ring from his room, presumably his phone which sat on his bedside table. "Hold on, I think that's my..." 

He jogged to his room and grabbed his phone, sliding to answer without seeing who it was as he walked back to the table. 

"Hel-"

"Bucky, whatever you do, do not open the text that Clint just sent you-"

"Bucky, ignore him," a crash is heard and a yelp. "Buck- ow! Just open the fuckin- Jesus, Steve, would you calm the fuck down and-"

"Bucky," a loud breath is heard through the phone, and it sounds like someone is shaking the phone as they try to speak. "Just don't even open it, please-"

"Ignore him, open the text message!" Clint calls in the background. 

All this happens as Bucky is standing in the kitchen with his mouth open, unsure what was happening and what was going on. Sam is looking at Bucky curiously. 

The line is quiet. "Good morning to you, too," Bucky chuckles. 

"Oh god, you saw it didn't you?" Steve moans, and Bucky stifles a laugh. He sits back down in his seat and puts his phone on speaker. "Clint, I told you he would see it," and then some incoherent mumbling on the line, "Well, it's not my fault that you're-"

"Steve, you done?" 

The line goes quiet and Bucky waits. 

"Yep."

"First of all, I haven't seen the picture that you're speaking of, so don't worry," Bucky starts, and Clint shouts "dammit!" in the background. "Second of all, I'm sure that whatever picture it is, it's fine- unless it's you murdering someone, I think we're good," Bucky chuckles, and poor Sam Wilson looks utterly confused. 

"No, you don't get it, it's so bad," Steve moans, and Bucky grabs the phone from off the table and taps to find his messages, where he sees one message from Clint sitting in his text messages. 

clint barton: attachment: img17538. enjoy this bootyful pic of ur bf :)

Bucky stifles the laughter yet again, and Sam leans over to look and rolls his eyes. 

"Honestly, I agreed to go to the gym with him only so that he wouldn't send the picture," Steve had still been rambling. "It's like-"

"I think you look adorable, Stevie," Bucky coos, and Clint cheers in the background as Steve groans. "No really, very cute- kind of hot, actually."

And then Clint is the one groaning and Sam throws a plastic spoon at his head as Steve mumbles in embarrassment and Bucky laughs. 

***

Nat poked at Steve's ribs. 

"Ow."

"That didn't hurt, Rogers."

"Maybe it did, how would you know the pain I feel?"

"Alright damn, I just wanted to tease you about your boyfriend but-"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

Steve was grumpy because of the stupid picture Clint had sent to Bucky earlier that day. After going to the gym with his ("fucking moronic idiot" Steve had said, which resulted in a flick) roommate, he went home and showered and called Natasha, desperate to eat breakfast with anyone but the three idiots who had teased him relentlessly about the damned picture. 

"Still pissy about the picture?" Nat asks with a smirk. 

"Oh, God, not you too?" Steve looks up to the sky and throws his head back in annoyance and Nat chuckles. 

"Fine, I won't bother you about it," Nat surrenders and they push through the doors of the diner. "But, you have to tell me what you're planning for the first date."

They are seated moments later at a table, and waitress tells them that she'll be back in a few moments to take orders. 

"I told him it would be something special, but that was completely out of my ass," Steve mutters. 

"Hey, why not just let him stick it up your ass to make up for what came out?" Nat wiggles her eyebrows and Steve turns red and throws his hands up in surrender. 

"I'm done, goodbye," Steve laments, and Nat chuckles. "I'm friends with the biggest assholes on this planet."

"Hey, that's a compliment considering I've met others from different planets," Nat jokes, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

***

It was about two weeks before Steve and Bucky could actually set a date for their first date. Between Bucky's stress-inducing Robotics class and Steve's upcoming Art History paper (another one, yep), the two idiots had barely managed to keep in touch, spare the daily twenty minute calls at the end of each day, when they skirted around each other shyly, flirting and testing the waters. 

It was the next Sunday when Steve called Bucky that night and told him that he would be taking him out that Friday night, and Bucky blushes to himself and his stomach turns at the thought of being alone with Steve after all this time. 

He runs across the apartment to where Sam was sitting and told him the good news, and if Sam looked at Bucky's back with a feeling of tenseness as he walked away, scared of seeing his friend fall so hard for a guy, not wanting him to be hurt in any way whatsoever. 

But Sam couldn't protect his best friend, and he smiled widely as Bucky looked back and smiled at him- because maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments, kudos and shit; next chapter will be up within the next few days. let me know if there's any confusion or mistakes, and also- I love u. 
> 
> that was creepy ok bye.


	19. the long-awaited, anticipated first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first date begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like how this turned out, so enjoy!

Bucky is standing in front of the full mirror, nervously toying with his shirt and trying to fix his hair. He tugged at the front of his hair, looking at himself closely and inspecting every inch. Ima would kill me if she knew how long my hair was getting, Bucky thought. 

He was wearing his dark denim jeans, tight around his thighs and snug around his hips. He wore a plaid button down, which matched his bottoms in darkness and had blue popping out. He wore his new boots, shiny and leather, and a denim jacket over his shirt, which he tugged every so often in discomfort. His hair was, well, his hair. It was sticking out a little in places; the blond was starting to peek through. Bucky kept on tugging, trying to keep it in one place but ultimately failing. 

He sighed. 

A light knock was heard- Bucky answered telling Sam to come in and heard his friend before he saw him. 

"Nervous?"

"Can you tell?" Bucky looked over and saw Sam nursing a mug of what he assumed was tea. Sam looked back at him with a smirk, but his eyes were kind. 

"I've known you for a while now, I can tell when you're nervous," Sam explained, and Bucky sighs again, eyeing himself in the mirror. 

"I look like shit."

"No, you look good, Buck," Sam insists and smiles. 

"Compared to Steve, I am literal trash," Bucky insists, and Sam rolls his eyes and leans over to fix Bucky's denim jacket. "He's not gonna like me, I know it. I'm telling you-"

"Bucky, I'm not in the mood for your self-deprecating shit," Sam retorts. "You know Steve likes you, so shut up and go enjoy your date tonight."

"But-"

"James, I will smack you."

"Sam, I just think-"

"Bro."

"I just came out here to have a good time," Bucky starts and turns to Sam, "and honestly, I'm feeling so attacked right now."

Sam looks at him and puts his hand on his head, rubbing his face exasperatedly. "You know, for someone who spends so much time doing homework and being busy, you're a real Internet kid when it comes down to it."

"It's not my fault, I can't help being a meme-loving fuck," Bucky explains with a smile, pretending to be serious. "I can't change who I am, I can't change meme."

"Goodbye," Sam rolls his eyes and marches straight out of the room, leaving Bucky standing there laughing hard. 

***

Steve had the car tonight, and he parked outside Sam and Bucky's place. He tugged at his collar awkwardly and wiped his free hand on his jeans, the other holding onto a bouquet of flowers. 

To say he was nervous? Understatement.

His entire body was in fight-or-flight mode, itching to run away but fighting the urge to. He had woken up and gone to class that day, thinking of tonight as he resisted the urge to throw up (which would've resulted in nothing, since he hadn't eaten all day out of nervousness, the poor kid).

He walked up the steps to where the door bells were and buzzed the button where he saw Sam and Bucky's names. 

"Steve?" The speaker scratches. 

"Y-yeah."

"Come on up," Sam insists, and buzzes him through. Steve pulls the door open and lets himself in, navigating the stairs until he was at the door of Sam and Bucky's apartment. He knocks and waits. 

The door opens. 

Bucky is standing there in front of Steve, and his heart starts racing at the sight of Bucky smiling his small smile and stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"Hi," Bucky says shyly. 

"Um- uh, hi," Steve says, and shoves the flowers towards Bucky's chest. "These are for you- I know- I, well, they're kind of lame, it's stupid I know, but-"

"Thank you, I love them," Bucky says with a smile, and takes them from Steve's hands, beckoning him inside and leading him to the kitchen. "I'll give them to Sam to put in a vase, I'm sure we have one- somewhere around here, I think."

"Okay," Steve barely whispers, and Sam walks in the kitchen casually. 

"You idiots are like twelve year olds," he comments, and grabs the flowers from Bucky's hands and smirks. "Now, shoo, leave me alone to sulk in my forever-aloneness."

Bucky laughs and starts walking to the front door, Steve trailing behind him. He lets Steve go in front of him and shuts the door behind them. The two (idiots) are standing in the hallway alone. 

Silence. 

"Th-thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful, Stevie," Bucky smiles and looks at Steve, who was staring at his feet with intense concentration. "Ar- what-"

"Yeah," Steve grunts, looking up at Bucky, "let's go."

Bucky sat in the drivers seat next to Steve as they drove into town. 

"So," Bucky starts. "What are we doing tonight?"

Steve's eyes were on the road, but he starts turning red on his cheeks. "This is kind of lame, but," they stop at a red light, "I was thinking we could do a classic date, since we've been on so many unofficial ones."

"So, dinner and a movie?"

Steve turns and smiles at Bucky, who was looking at Steve intently. "And of course, flowers."

Bucky laughs, and Steve smiles at the sound, taking one hand of the steering wheel and shifting gears. He starts driving again, but his hands are still on the stick-shift. 

Bucky has his hands on his lap. Steve, the romantic, grabs one hand softly and laces his fingers through. 

Both of their hearts respectively start beating fast. 

***

"When I said classic, I meant classic," Steve explains after dinner as they get into the car. They had eaten a quick dinner, Italian, Bucky initiating small-talk and Steve responding, starting to ease into the situation. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're going to a drive-in movie," Steve smiles, and Bucky's eyes widen as they both get into the car. 

"Wha- those things still exist?" Bucky says, incredulous. "Where did you even find one?"

"Turns out there's one in town," Steve says, turning the keys in the ignition. "I looked around last week and found one."

"That's- that's awesome," Bucky says, and he's looking at Steve as the latter ducks his head in embarrassment. "Stevie, you- you didn't have to do all of this, for me-"

"Of course I did," Steve responds casually as he pulls out of the parking lot. "You deserve it."

Bucky looks down. 

"So," Steve changes the topic, "I spoke to the guy who runs the place and I requested a movie."

Bucky looks back up, grateful for the subject change. "What is it?"

"It's about a group of high school kids, navigating the world they live in," Steve continues, turning into the street and driving. "Inspiring, wonderful, a classic."

"The Breakfast Club?" Bucky guesses.

"Even better," Steve insists, looking over at Bucky in the passenger seat. "High School Musical, obviously."

Bucky looks back at Steve as the latter wiggles his eyebrows. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Steve pops the 'p,' casually. "I'm dead serious."

"Alright," Bucky laughs. "Don't judge me when I know all the lyrics to every song."

"I do, too."

"I have three younger sisters, what's your excuse?" Bucky teases. 

Steve grabs Bucky's hand and laces their fingers, making Bucky's heart race. "A lot of free time."

"Valid reason. I'll take it."

Steve laughs, and Bucky's heart flips. 

***

Steve, it turns out, had prepared everything. The blanket for when they sat on the hood of the car, the thermos filled with hot chocolate (still hot, God bless, Steve thought), the pillows. He grabbed popcorn on the way in, greeting the owner with a smile. 

A few other people were scattered across the lawn, sitting in their cars. Bucky and Steve were toward the back, sat on the hood of the car and wrapped around in  
blankets, a bag of popcorn sat in between them. 

"This is the best date I've ever been on," Bucky turns and smiled to Steve, who blushes profusely. 

"You've got low standards, then," Steve replies, and Bucky frowns. 

"No, I don't, Stevie," he insists. "You're the first date I've been on in a few years that I've enjoyed. I never pursue things further becau- I just, I'm really happy, okay?"

Steve turns and faces Bucky, who looks away shyly. He pushes the popcorn out of the way and scoots over to where Bucky is, planting himself right next to him, his leg touching his. "Okay."

The movie starts playing, and the scene plays out. Bucky is half watching, mostly focusing on his hands, distracted. Steve was watching, stuffing popcorn in his mouth every other second. 

The first song plays. Steve sings the words softly and Bucky laughs and joins in, still looking down. 

Troy and Gabriella and the rest of the crowd are sitting in the classroom, and scene playing out. Steve stops watching and turns to Bucky, who was fiddling with a piece of popcorn. 

"Are you okay?" Steve whispers. 

Bucky looks up, and Steve's heart skips a beat at the sight of his bright blue eyes. Bucky nods, and looks back down. Steve, not fully convinced, grabs Bucky's hand and laces his fingers through softly, and Bucky smiles. 

"We can go, if you want," Steve says, and Bucky shakes his head. He turns to the screen and starts watching, and lies his head on Steve's shoulder. 

When the next song comes on, Bucky sings a little louder and smiles a little bigger. Steve laughs when Bucky does a little dance. 

When Troy and Gabriella sing together, Bucky tightens his grip around Steve's hand, and Steve squeezes back as he sips his hot chocolate. 

By the end of the movie, Bucky and Steve are under one blanket, legs tangled and hand-in-hand, laughing as they sing the peppy songs. Steve pulls Bucky off the hood and brings him into his arms, dancing with him and spinning him around as Bucky laughs with tears in his eyes from the cold.

And if the other people watching the movie end up watching Bucky and Steve instead, the two of them are too busy looking at each other to notice. 

***

"Stevie, you don't hafta walk me to my door," Bucky complains and he shuts the car door. 

"Of course I do," Steve explains, "it's a classic date and I have to be the gentleman I am, and walk you to your door." Steve walks around the car and laces his hand in Bucky's. 

"Wait, so I'm the girl in this classic date scenario?" Bucky chuckles, and Steve nods. 

"I thought that was implied," Steve says, and Bucky laughs again as they walk up the steps to the door of the complex. Bucky sticks his key in and lets them in. They walk in a comfortable silence to the apartment door, finding themselves unable to say goodbye as they stand in front of it a few minute later. 

"Um-"

"Uh-"

"I should-"

"Yeah, I'll just go, and-"

Bucky's lips crash on Steve's pushing him into the wall opposite them. Steve was surprised at first, but pulls Bucky's body into his and wraps his arms around his torso softly. Steve was against the wall, Bucky melting into him and they kissed. The kiss was different than the first two, weighed down with their unfinished conversations from the night. It was heated, intense, as Bucky coaxed Steve's mouth open and Steve complied, and all Bucky could do is reach further and feel further into Steve, his hands digging into his shoulders as their kissing got more fierce. 

Bucky slowed their kissing down, and Steve loosened his grip around Bucky and moved his hands down onto his hips, running his fingers up and down the strips of exposed skin near his hips. Bucky shivered at the touch, and dragged his teeth lightly across Steve's bottom lip, tugging lightly, causing Steve to emit a growl, pulling Bucky closer into him. 

Their kissing continued, heating up and getting faster by the second. They needed to breathe, but both were too petty to stop for a moment. Bucky slowly pulled away and looked at Steve, whose pupils were blown up, practically all black, and his lips swollen and red, glistening at his licked them, wanting more of Bucky. They were both heaving from the intensity, looking at each other with smiles on their faces and their hearts beating fast. 

"We shou- I think we should-"

"Slow down?" Bucky finished Steve's sentence, and the latter smiled and looked down. Bucky tipped Steve's head back up and kissed him softly, pecking his lips and moving across his face to his jaw and eventually to his ear, where he nibbled softly. 

"Tha- Jesus, Buck," Steve practically growled, "that's your idea of slowing down?"

"Sorry," Bucky stopped at looked up at Steve, grinning. 

"You're not sorry," Steve teases. "C'mon, you gotta get your head in the game, kid."

Bucky laughs, "that was so bad!" 

"Why am I feeling so wronnnggg?" Steve sings, and grabs Bucky's wrist and twirls him around. "My head's in the game, but my hearts in the song," he continues and Bucky laughs as he tries to resist. 

"I'm never watching High School Musical with you again," Bucky insists. 

"Not even the second one?" Steve gasps. "Not even Fabulous? I am appalled!"

"You're such a loser, I like kissing you better," Bucky teases, and Steve pulls him in and kisses him softly. 

"I like doing anything with you," Steve says, and Bucky blushes. "Even if it means no more High School Musical and only kissing," he pouts, and Bucky laughs and kisses him again. 

God, Bucky thought, I am so screwed. 

Shit, Steve thought, this is too good to be true. 

They kiss each other and Bucky tried to pull away, insisting that Sam gave him a curfew and leaning in every time Steve wants to kiss him. It took ten minutes for them to finally part, Steve telling Bucky that he'd text him first thing the next morning. 

And if Bucky leans against the door and slides down to the floor with the goofiest smile on his face as he calls for Sam's name, no one has to know.

And if he laughs and blushes when Steve texts him "i never thought I'd be turned on after watching high school musical,' well, no one has to know either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment and tell me what you think! also, leave kudos! 
> 
> PS: THANK U FOR 100+ KUDOS U GUYS ARE AWESOME!!! Keep showing the love!
> 
> new chapter up soon.
> 
> PPS: check out my new fic, it's on this account. it's a completely different feel from this one, I was just itching to test a new writing style and also to dream up a new stucky scenario where fate intervenes and they fall in love. go click on it and find it and read it, let me know what you think of the first chapter!!!!   
> -mayla


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